Fall and Fail
by aradian nights
Summary: He feared failing, and he feared falling. Jason Todd proved to bring about both. Pre-Invasion.
1. A Street Rat

**fall and fail**

**{a street rat}**

Coming home after a long mission was always something that Dick enjoyed. It was kind of just a huge relief, a weight lifted from his shoulders just by knowing that he had succeeded in living another day. He sometimes wondered if his friends ever felt the same, or if he was just very aware of his own morality in comparison to his super powered friends. He almost wanted to ask Artemis about it, but he decided that wouldn't be the best idea. It might bother her more than it did him if it was brought up.

The mission had been simple, though once again they'd messed up on the whole 'covert recon, do not engage' thing. The fact that they were supposed to be a secret team seemed to just blow right over their heads sometimes. Batman seemed to be catching on, and warned them twice when distributing the mission that it was _recon_. He didn't seem to be angry with them, but it was definitely something they needed to consider. They couldn't keep screwing up recon missions, or else they'd be losing chances to collect information.

Dick rubbed his eyes where his mask had been, his fingers brushing the slight impression it had left against his skin. It would fade in a few minutes, but he had caught himself staring at his own reflection a few times throughout the mission, staring at the red tunic that seemed to be growing too tight again, and noting that his gloves were shorter. He felt bad about requesting his costume to be tailored, because just a few months ago he'd swapped in his entire wardrobe for something that would actually fit him. He was getting a little uncomfortable with his own growth, and though he enjoyed gaining some height, it was really just a bother.

He stretched his arms over his head, yawning a little. He had school in a few hours, but it was a Friday, so he considered the idea of pulling an all nighter. He could catch up on his sleep the next day, and not worry about accidentally oversleeping and causing Alfred grief about getting him to Gotham Academy on time. That idea didn't sit well with him, as he considered the classes he had the next day, and he decided he would take his chances and try and at least clock in an hour or two of sleep.

Batman didn't arrive when they completed their mission, but Dick had assumed that he was dealing with Gotham issues, and so no one really commented. The mission had taken longer than expected, and everyone had school the next day, so they all bade each other farewell and fled to their respective homes. Well, except for the members who lived at the Cave. They kind of just slumped off to their rooms.

Dick had expected Bruce to still be out and about as Batman. Imagine his surprise when he trotted silently into the kitchen to nick one of Alfred's cookies from the counter, and he saw Bruce sitting at the table, his lips tugged into a strange frown. It wasn't the usual Batman frown, or even the soft frown Bruce Wayne often used when faking bemusement. It was a frown he hadn't seen in a few years, one that he rarely emoted. It was sadness that tugged at the corners of his lips, and curiosity in his eyes. He sat very still, his hands folded before him on the table, and his body lax against the chair. Something about his demeanor felt very vaguely familiar, but Dick couldn't place his finger on it.

Then he saw that they were not alone. Sitting at the other side of the table was a child, very small and pale and scruffy looking, who scowled at Dick from his perch. His eyes narrowed a little bit. He was very thin, that much was blatant to anyone who had eyes, but Dick could see that beneath the dirt and grime there were faint bruises, sallow and mauve stretching across his skin. His white shirt was smeared with filth, and porous enough for Dick to make out the shape of his ribs beneath the fabric. Needless to say, if he had to guess which kid had been off rolling around, fighting for his life in a forest for five hours, he would not pick himself.

"Let me guess," the boy snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "_Robin_."

Dick blinked at the boy, schooling his features easily to not show any sort of bewilderment, and he cocked his head to the side. "Uh," he laughed sheepishly, "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's alright, Dick," Bruce said, not looking away from the small boy's face. "He knows."

He sucked in a sharp breath, glancing between the boy and his mentor. Well, to think he'd been considering going to sleep moments ago. Oh no, the night had only just gotten infinitely more interesting. "Should I be concerned?" he asked. The boy didn't look dangerous, but Dick had no right to underestimate a child based on his appearance. He was still plenty scrawny enough for villains to grossly misjudge what he was capable of.

"No, I'm handling the situation."

"Oh, yeah," Dick said cheerfully. "I can see that. Bruce, shouldn't you… I don't know, let him take a shower at least? You know, before you interrogate him."

"This isn't an interrogation," Bruce sighed, and the boy snorted.

"Oh, like hell it isn't." He frowned, his eyes darting from Dick to Bruce and then back. "You're just going to hand me over to the police after I tell you my name. So I'm not gonna."

Dick wasn't sure what was going on here, but he found himself wondering where Alfred was. He would be all over convincing Bruce to let the boy clean himself up, and feeding him something before they bothered with questioning him. And Dick couldn't even blame him for not giving up his name, because the fact was that he wouldn't either if he was in his shoes.

"I don't plan on telling the police about the car incident," Bruce said, and Dick could tell he was choosing his words very carefully. "I simply want to know your name so I can call you by something."

"Yes, we find that people don't particularly like being referred to as 'hey you'," Dick chirped, earning a glare from Bruce. The first time he'd bothered to tear his gaze from the boy's, and it was enough to knock Dick down a few pegs.

"Why do you care?" The boy looked a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, and Dick felt a surge of empathy. He remembered when Bruce had first come to the orphanage to talk to him, just a month or so after his family had died, and he recalled the feeling of apprehension when he realized that the billionaire was actually _interested_ in him.

For a moment, Dick panicked. He knew it was because he was afraid of maybe losing Bruce's attention, and that it was selfish of him, but he couldn't help it. It was a short, small pang of jealousy that he quelled almost immediately, and he swore to himself that he would be better than that. This boy… he looked like he needed somewhere to stay, and someone to look after him.

"Why shouldn't we?" Dick asked, curious of what the boy might say. Bruce's eyes were back on the boy's face.

The boy looked at him, his mouth opening to retort, but he seemed to falter. He stared at Dick for a moment, his eyes flitting away from his face when he found himself not able to come up with an answer immediately. "Because…" he said. "Because you're… you're Bruce Wayne! You're _Batman and Robin_! Like hell you two would give someone like me the time of day."

"Someone like you?" Both Dick and Bruce repeated this, Dick with a degree of incredulity, and Bruce in a vacant tone.

The boy shifted in the sit, looking even smaller all of a sudden. "Yeah," he said, shrugging and brushing the hair from his forehead. "You know. Like…" He wrinkled his nose. "A street rat, I guess. I've been called that before, along with some nastier things which I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate hearing."

"Good call." Dick smiled at the boy, knowing that Bruce was pretty strict on the casual swearing. "But listen, we don't think of anyone as being lower than us. You don't have to tell us your name right now, but you don't have to guard yourself around us either. After all, you know our secret."

For a moment, the boy seemed to consider Dick's words. Then he looked to Bruce. "Is that why you're forcing me to stay here?" he asked slowly. "Because I know you're Batman?"

Dick looked at Bruce, pushing himself back against the countertop to keep him from answering for the man. He knew that the boy was probably right on some level, but there might be more to it. Bruce's heart was a hell of a lot bigger than anyone gave him credit for.

"No." Bruce's expression was very carefully void of emotion, which Dick thought defeated the purpose. But then again, he really had no idea what was going on, so he didn't say anything. "I could very easily take that information from you, but I won't."

_Martian Manhunter_, Dick realized. _He could totally wipe that little smudge from anyone's mind if Batman asked him to_. He recalled M'gann's power, and how strong she was growing. She could probably wipe someone's memory easier than she could blink. Dick noticed the boy's discomfort at the thought of what Bruce was implying, so he stepped in.

"What he means is that he trusts you not to tell anyone," Dick assured. The boy frowned, and he slumped in his chair, looking rather glum all of a sudden.

"Well, that's…" The boy glanced at Bruce, his eyes widening enough for Dick to see that they were a cold blue color. "You… you really trust me?"

The truth was, Bruce definitely did not trust the boy, but Dick knew that admitting it would be the worst thing ever. If Bruce wanted the boy's name, this was the way to go, and he knew it. When the man nodded, his grim face managing to pull a small smile, Dick found himself smiling as well. Now if only someone would tell him what was going on.

"Yes, I do." He leaned forward, his hands unfolding and pressing against the table, and now he was all business. "However, that doesn't change the fact that you were trying to rob me— don't look at me like that, I'm not angry. I just want to know why."

"Um," Dick said, pushing off from the counter. "Would now be a good time to ask what's going on? A little out of the loop here."

"We'll discuss it later."

Dick sighed. Oh, he was sure they would. He didn't say anything else though, because he knew it wasn't important right now. The boy was, and that was why Dick smiled and hopped onto the counter, amused by how Bruce was so enrapt in the entire situation that he didn't even care.

"Well, I…" The boy bit his lip, and didn't seem very sure about what to say. Dick felt bad for him. "I don't know, I thought I could sell them. Those are nice tires okay, they'd get me enough to have a roof over my head for a few days."

"You're homeless," Dick stated, frowning at the boy. Well, that explained why Bruce had brought him home instead of taking him back to his parents. The blunt tone he had given earned him two sets of glares, and Dick nearly laughed at how similar the boy's was to the power of a batglare. Not quite enough composure there, but the cold passion was evident.

"I get by," the boy snapped, looking ruffled by the comment.

"Dick—"

"I can see that." Dick smirked and slid off the counter. "You know, robbery isn't exactly what I'd call getting by?"

"Well I'm still alive, right?" The boy pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet, looking angry and hurt. Dick felt a little guilty, but he figured that would pass. "I don't need you to judge me, okay? You try giving up your cushy manor for a day and live on the streets of Gotham."

Dick knew the streets of Gotham well, and he also knew that he probably would not last very long if he had been in the boy's position. He wouldn't have had the heart to steal things, and though he was as stealthy as can be, it wouldn't be hard for him to get caught if he was a lonely kid without any training. So he had to give the boy credit. He was a survivor.

"I don't think so," Dick admitted, still smirking at the boy. "But how about this, 'kay? Stay here for the night."

Bruce made no objections, nor did he appear to even notice the invitation Dick had made to a complete stranger. Dick didn't think it really mattered, because he was a kid and he looked ready to pass out anyway. He definitely needed a shower though, to get all the grime off his skin. Dick had loads of old clothes that didn't fit him anymore, so that wouldn't be a problem, and there were many vacant rooms on Dick's side of the mansion.

The boy was taken aback. He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, especially since he'd most likely been anticipating a fight. Dick could tell by his body's rigidness, and the way his shoulders were squared. Finally, after looking to Bruce for an objection, he said, "You… are you really serious?"

"I would like a name before I allow you to sleep in my home," Bruce said, his frown slipping into a half smile. "But I won't let you go back onto the streets when you have nothing. No family, either, I'm assuming."

That made the boy go quiet, and he looked down at his hands, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. Dick took that as a confirmation, as did Bruce. The man nodded, and stood up as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Dick spotted Alfred lurking near the entrance of the kitchen, simply observing the scene rather than actually be present in the conversation.

"I see," Bruce said, straightening up. "Alfred, I need a guest room prepared."

"Already done, Master Bruce." Alfred stepped into the kitchen, nodding at Dick. "Master Richard, you should be in bed."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'll be fine." He was used to pulling all nighters anyway. Plus, it wasn't everyday that the manor had a guest turn up out of the blue. Dick had a feeling Bruce wasn't going to let go of the boy very easily, either. "How old are you, by the way? You look about my size at nine, which, let me be honest, is definitely not astrous."

"I'm twelve," the boy said, frowning at Dick. His eyes flashed suspiciously at him, doing a quick once over. "What kind of word is astrous? Did you just make that up?"

"Well—!" Before Dick could launch into an explanation about his vocabulary, Bruce cut him off.

"I'd like a name."

The boy stiffened, and he looked up at Bruce through the strands of limp, dark brown hair that hung over his temples. Finally, he relented, and he sighed in defeat. Dick grinned at him, only to be ignored by the kid, who focused his cool gaze on the man behind Batman.

"Jason," he said finally, his voice carrying his apprehension and befuddlement. "Uh, my name is Jason Todd. So… do with that what you want, I guess."

Jason was a distrustful, precocious kid, who Dick got a smile out of after sitting with him in the guest room, explaining what he meant by astrous. Jason had shaken his head, laughing a little. "That's kind of ridiculous, you know that, right?"

"No, Jason, it's awesome. You obviously need to get more acquainted with the wonderful world of linguistics."

"You know, I'm pretty sure that one is a word…"

"Linguistics? Yeah, it is, but that's not the point."

He was forced to go to bed not long after that, because the number of sick days he was allowed to use for Gotham Academy was growing dangerously thin. He was pretty sure that it didn't matter anyway, considering he needed to get up in an hour. But he found himself thinking about Jason and the situation they were given. A boy of twelve with no home or family, and a criminal in the making if someone didn't teach him better.

But he wasn't so bad. A little quick to his temper, but overall he had a sense of humor, and a sense of self. He knew that stealing was wrong, and he swore not to do it again so long as his life didn't depend on it. Dick couldn't deny him that, just in case something happened and he wound up on the streets again before Bruce could sort everything out.

Jason had tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. Dick was mostly impressed by the fact that Jason had almost succeeded, getting three tires off before Batman stumbled upon him. So Dick had to hand it to him— Jason Todd had guts, and maybe he was even a little bit crazy.

But that was okay. It was the perfect combination for a bat.

So Dick lay in his bed, definitely exhausted from the night he'd had, but not willing to hand himself over to slumber when he knew he'd just be getting up soon anyway. He thought about Jason, and about how many Robin costumes he'd gone through, and how much he'd grown as a person since he had first donned the cape. Then he thought about who Jason might be when he grew older. Stealing tires wasn't exactly a crime expected from a twelve year old, and if he had succeeded, it wouldn't have been his last. Things like that grew bigger, festered like a wound until it became so disgusting and so large that it consumed everything, and then strangled the life from it.

He did fall asleep, if only for a few moments. He dreamt of his mother, and his father, and his aunt, and his uncle, and his cousin. He dreamt of flying, and laughing, and crying, and blood, and screams…

And he dreamt about robins too.

He woke up to the sound of his alarm, and he could feel the seed of an idea forming somewhere in his mind, but he was too groggy and upset to notice it. But eventually the seed settled and grew, and it turned into a beast that Dick Grayson could not kill.

Jason stayed, and Dick found it hard to put on the cape now. He didn't know why, but sometimes when he looked at it, he found himself hearing his mother's voice in his head. _Robin, Robin, Robin, if you fall, we'll catch you, see?_ She'd laughed a lot, and she had always told him he had been meant to fly, and that he had his family to catch him if he ever dared to fall.

_But no one caught you_, he thought bitterly_. No one caught any of you, and now I'm falling too, and none of you are here to catch me_.

* * *

_This is my first fic writing any of these characters, so I'm a little worried. Mostly about Jason and Bruce (how does one even attempt to write Bruce Wayne), but Dick too because his personality is sort of weird sometimes. I'd like some feedback on how I did with them._

_I wanted to write my own take on how Jason Todd came into the bat life, and how Dick quit being Robin. I don't think it had anything to do with Batman, or a fight with anyone. I just think that Jason came along, and Dick realized that things needed to change if they were going to help this kid and his life, and it was just a very gradual process that ended with Dick helping Batman train Jason to become Robin. The characters changed a lot between the first season and Invasion, and to be honest, I think a lot of Dick's personality changes probably came from Jason's death. Actually, let's be honest, Jason's death probably hit the entire team hard. I suspect he died before Tula, so it would be their first encounter with losing a teammate. _

_I have a lot of Jason feels, okay, like why haven't we heard ANYTHING ABOUT HIM yet?_


	2. The Logical Option

**fall and fail**

**{the logical option}**

It took months to gather enough papers on Jason to actually give them the jurisdiction to legally make him Bruce's ward. Bruce had offered adoption but, like Dick, Jason had refused. It probably had something to do with his mother, who had overdosed on drugs when he had been around eight. Jason wouldn't talk about it, and they did not force it out of him, but they knew that kind of trauma wouldn't leave him. Ever.

Jason was very brash and loud, which was an admitted contrast to how Dick had been when he had first arrived at the manor. Dick had been very somber and reserved, creeping along corridors and sneaking into rooms he knew he wasn't really allowed it. Jason claimed everything to be his own, and he was very happy to do so. It wasn't a bad thing, and Dick didn't mind at all, but he could tell it startled Alfred a little. Also, Jason was punished far more than Dick had been within his first year. Of course Dick had never broken so many artifacts trying to do flips in the foyer, but it still bothered him a little.

He wasn't allowed to tell anyone about Jason, not even Wally. His best friend was constantly calling and leaving him messages, obviously hurt by how little Dick was speaking to him outside of missions. Dick didn't even go to the Cave to hang out anymore on weekends because he was too busy trying to tame Jason's temper, and teaching him how to do a back flip without breaking a two hundred year old vase. He'd tried to explain to the team that it was a really top secret Batman thing, and that he really couldn't ignore it or else something bad might happen. Everyone mostly understood, though they were obviously saddened by the fact of it. Wally wouldn't stop pestering him until Dick had sworn to tell him as soon as he had permission from Batman. Mentioning that it was personal had nearly thrown Wally off the deep end.

"Dude!" Wally had hissed over the sound of the Team laughing, and discussing the success of the past mission. "I thought personal stuff wasn't supposed to interfere with Bat duty!"

"It doesn't." Dick had looked away, feeling guilty for keeping the new boy of the Wayne Manor a secret from his best friend. "Not usually, anyway, but this is a really special case. I can't tell you, but you have to trust me, it's not bad. It's just… tedious. I can't split my time evenly between patrols, school, the team, and… this other thing. Look, it's not a huge deal, and you'll probably laugh when you find out, so don't worry about it, kay, KF?"

"Rob," Wally whined. "This so isn't fair! I'm like the most trustworthy person on this team! Why can't the Bats just see that?"

Dick knew. Bruce was afraid that they might lose the legal right to Jason Todd, and he didn't want to put up anyone's hopes. The only person Dick might be able to tell was Barbara Gordon, but that was only because she liked to show up unexpectedly at the manor sometimes bearing homework and stolen case files. Dick had fended her off for a while, going to her house instead of his, taking her to get ice cream, but eventually both she and Jason caught on.

"You're hiding me," he spat, glaring at the television screen as Dick collapsed on the couch. Barbara was great, but sometimes being with her was like working with an extra teammate. She was always so determined to crack the cases her father had set on hold, just to prove to him that she was capable. Dick really admired her for it, but it also worried him, and tuckered him out. One person could only take so much crime.

"They'll take you away if we don't." Dick had been expecting this conversation for weeks now, but he still wasn't ready for it. The pained look on Jason's face was enough to make him want to apologize and give him a hug, but he knew Jason wouldn't appreciate it. "We have to get an alibi for where you've been the past four years, and why you ran away from your foster homes, and then convince the state to release you into our custody. We can't do all of that if the press finds out about you and twists around everything we're trying to do."

"That isn't fair!" Jason looked up at Dick, his icy blue eyes wide and hurt. "I ran away from the foster homes because they were awful! They treated me like a piece of meat, not a person."

"I understand," Dick murmured. He recalled the orphanage, and he felt a little sick at the memory of the lumpy mattress under the leak in the roof, and the constant sound of sniffling children. "But the law won't. Hey, look at it this way! We've almost got custody of you. Just a week more, I think, and then you can come with me and Barbara to crack open silly cases, and work on English essays."

"You and your girlfriend do police work and homework for fun?" Jason wrinkled his nose, and choked on his own laughter. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey!" Dick pushed Jason playfully. "Come on, she's not my girlfriend. I actually don't have a girlfriend anymore."

The boy's eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he spluttered and continued to laugh. "That implies that you actually had a girlfriend in the past. Was she a cop's kid too?"

"Magician's, actually." Dick didn't want to talk about his failed relationship with Zatanna, though they were still really good friends. He wasn't sure if Jason would understand it. "And she's pretty cool."

"As cool as Barbara?" Jason grinned wicked, and ducked when Dick tried to swat him. Dick blinked, surprised when the smaller boy grabbed Dick by the lapels of his Gotham Academy blazer and dragged him onto the floor, taking a swing at his head on the way down. Dick was able to duck and slip out of the boy's grasp easily, but he just kept coming.

"Whoa!" Dick hooked his arm around Jason's to cease his punching, and he laughed at the squirming boy. "Jason, what are you doing?"

"Trying to beat you up," Jason hissed through gritted teeth. "How are you so fast?"

"I train." Dick let the boy go, and he watched him fall back onto his elbows, scowling a little. "Every day I train so I can be better and faster and stronger. I've been doing it since I was little, before I even came here. Acrobats gotta be quick and strong to catch each other, you know?"

"Oh." Jason pushed himself up, peering at Dick through the dark hair that fell onto his forehead, and he frowned. He looked away, his eyes trailing up to the television, on some show he'd decided to watch. Dick noted it looked violent. "Can… can you train me?"

Dick's eyes snapped back to Jason's face. Uh oh. He studied the boy, trying to figure out how to go about saying _no_, no he _couldn't_, but… "Why?" he asked. He was curious, mostly, but also he felt guilty saying no. He remembered how many times Bruce had said no before finally caving.

"Because I want to beat you up."

Dick rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh as Jason dove at him again. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself," he snickered, batting away the boy's fists.

"Teach me how to fight like you, then!" Dick yelped as Jason tackled him, his tiny fists catching Dick's face. It didn't hurt much, but Dick couldn't be sure if it was because Jason was holding back, or because he wasn't as strong as the usual sparring partner.

"Boys," Dick heard Alfred call in warning. When did Alfred come in? Honestly, the man had to be part Bat himself for all he was worth. "Break apart, or else I will be forced to tell Master Bruce."

"We're just—" Dick gasped grabbing both of Jason's wrists and gently tossing his body onto the ground beside him. "Playing! We're just playing, Alfred, don't worry!"

Jason sat up, glaring at Dick and giving a meagerly pout as he tore his wrists from his grasp. "Alfred," he said, looking up at the butler. Alfred was standing near the entrance, peering at them with a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Though worry was evident too. "What did Dick do to make Bruce want to train him?"

If Alfred was shocked, he hid it well. He simply tilted his head, his eyes flickering between to two boys, though his gaze lingered on Dick for a few moments longer than it should have. Yeah, he was going to get the blame for this one, he could feel it.

"Master Richard asked Master Bruce very nicely," Alfred said slowly. "And when that did not work, Master Richard brought up a very sore subject that made Master Bruce reconsider. Now, you might want to ask him yourself. He will be home for dinner tonight, I think…"

"Whoa, seriously?" Dick asked, holding Jason down as he moved to jump up. "What gives? Is the world ending? Oh, is it Selina? I bet it's Selina."

"Who's Selina?"

Dick could only cackle in response.

"I don't believe it's either, Master Richard," Alfred said, chuckling a little. "But if I'm correct, I think you may bring Miss Gordon around more often now."

Dick stood up, his mouth dropping into a gape, and he looked down at Jason. He looked a little puzzled, his cold eyes narrowing a little as he tried to figure out what exactly Alfred meant by that. Dick shook his head, grinning, and he let out a tiny whoop and yanked the boy to his feet. He looked a little disgruntled about that, but said nothing.

"Jason!" Dick cried, ruffling his hair. He elbowed Dick in the ribs, grumbling about him knocking it off. "You're my brother now! Like, officially, not just oh, yeah, we live together with a billionaire and a butler."

Jason looked very judging as he looked Dick up and down, his eyebrows rising. Then it seemed to hit him. "Oh," he gasped. "Oh! Wait, so… I can stay? Definitely? Legally, and shit?"

"Yeah! Oh, crap, I have to tell Wally—"

"Perhaps you should discuss that with Master Bruce before you do so, Master Richard," Alfred said, smiling gently. Dick looked at him and gave a small nod in agreement. Actually… now that he thought about it…

Training Jason might not be the worst idea ever. In fact, it could very easily be a good thing for the Dark Knight when he was dealing with something in Gotham, and Robin was out and about with the team. Often Dick worried about his almost-father when he was fighting the loonies by himself. He knew it was silly, because he was Batman and he could handle himself, but there were times when Robin catches an enemy, and they narrowly miss Batman's vitals when they strike. It's frightening and eye opening, because it reminds him that Batman is human. He needs someone to watch out for him or else…

The dinner with Bruce had gone remarkably well, and there were lots of smiles and chuckles until Bruce brought up Gotham Academy. Jason was uncomfortable with the idea of going back to school after years on his own, especially to Gotham Academy, which held such high expectations for its students.

And then Jason had declared the only way he was going to Gotham Academy was if he was able to train with Dick. That, of course, had ended the dinner on a sour note, and Bruce had sent Jason up to his room with a very blunt no. Dick watched the boy go, feeling his sadness and anger as it radiated off him. He only wanted to help, he realized. Jason wanted to help Gotham just as Dick had when he had found out Bruce's secret, and Dick didn't blame him for that. He couldn't.

"Bruce," Dick said softly. The man was sitting at the kitchen table once again, and his hands were folded over his mouth as he fell into the depths of his own mind. "You should let him train."

Bruce's eyes flashed to Dick's, a harsh glower there that he rarely used against him. But Dick was not afraid of Bruce, nor would he ever be, so he simply gave him a weak smile and dragged out a chair, plopping down beside him. "I know you don't want to," Dick said. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think it would help him, but… look, he's like us. He's _exactly_ like us. And he needs this, I think. Isn't that why we took him in? So we could place him on the right side of things?"

"I don't want him on the field," Bruce sighed. "Self defense is something I'm sure he learned on the streets, and… Dick, is it so bad that I don't want to drag another child into this? He should be allowed to have a regular childhood."

"He's almost a teenager," Dick argued, unsure of what to make of what he was saying. Did he regret allowing Dick to become Robin? "And he can take care of himself, obviously, I mean he survived out on the streets of Gotham for years on his own. If he's going to live in this house, let's face it. He'll put on a mask sooner or later."

"That isn't certain."

Dick shook his head. He was wondering when it would come to this, but he knew Bruce would have to agree. There was no way they could keep Jason out of the Batcave, not when he knew so much. If he wanted to fight then he would fight, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop them, so it was better to prepare him before he got himself killed.

"Bruce, please consider it." Dick looked up at the man who was very nearly his father, his eyes pleading. "We can let him go untrained and see where that leads him— and let's be honest here, he picks fights over really little things, so it's not hard to imagine where that will end up— or we can train him and let him taste what it's like to be a hero."

"It might help him," Bruce murmured, leaning back in his chair. "But it can also hurt him. He's not an acrobat, he wasn't trained for this type of thing before… you do understand where I'm coming from, don't you?"

"Yeah." Dick ruffled his hair and smile weakly. "But how is he going to live in this house knowing where we go every night? It'll drive him crazy not being able to help."

Bruce grunted in acknowledgment, still deep in thought. The room was silent for a few minutes, and Dick sighed, tipping the chair back on its hind-legs as he considered his options. He wanted to train Jason, but he also wanted to make sure the boy was safe and not targeted by every loon fresh out of Arkham within the first night of his…

"Oh," he whispered, leaning forward. The chair fell back to the floor, and he looked up at Bruce. He wasn't looking at Dick, but rather staring at the table, still locked in his own mental battle. "I have an idea."

Bruce jerked his chin a little, a sign that he was listening, and Dick took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say this, but he knew it would be a step in the direction in which Jason was trained and ready. "Jason should be Robin," Dick said in a small voice.

He hadn't meant for it to come out so sad.

Bruce looked at him, his eyes careful not to betray his shock, but Dick knew better. "What do you mean?" he asked, staring vacantly at his older ward. "You want to quit?" _After everything_, Dick heard beneath the emptiness of Bruce's voice, _you want to give it up now?_

"No." He didn't know what he wanted— he wasn't even sure he wanted to give up the name his mother had given to him so many years before— but he did know that if Jason was going to be part of this, he would need to survive in Gotham. Possessive, overly enthusiastic with new prey— yeah, that Gotham. If he had the Robin identity to protect him, he wouldn't be as susceptible to being a target. Not as much. Just a tiny bit less. "I just… I think we'd both be better off. That is if you let him train."

"Why?" He sounded almost confused, and that startled Dick so much that he felt himself rising to his feet. Bruce watched him, his expression still never betraying his emotions. "I thought you loved being Robin."

"I do," Dick whispered. He forced himself to stare into Bruce's eyes, trying to make him understand what he was doing by making this gesture. "I love being Robin more than anything in the world. It's… it's part of who I am. It's a huge part of who I am, and honestly… I can't really imagine _not_ being Robin. But… I think… it gave me so much _hope_ when I was younger, and it really… I don't know, it healed me, I guess. I think Jason needs that feeling, like he belongs somewhere. Being Robin will help."

Bruce was silent, and the rest of the world went silent too. Dick thought they'd be able to hear a pin drop in another room if they kept it up. He looked down, feeling silly suddenly, and foolish for saying something like that. He couldn't fathom what Bruce might be thinking now, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. He probably felt disappointed in his protégé, wondering what he had done wrong to make him want to quit. It wasn't like that at all, but he had a feeling in his gut, as if he just hadn't explained it right.

Bruce then stood up, his frame still towering over Dick's lithe little body, and he held the gaze for a moment longer. Then, very gently, he took Dick by the shoulders and pulled him forward, his body falling into the embrace without objection. Dick stood, a little stunned by the display of emotion. It wasn't like Bruce never hugged him, because he did. More often than most people would believe, really, but this was different. Dick felt very small, as if he were a weepy, grieving eight-year-old boy again, and he found himself burying his face in Bruce's chest. He smelled like Bruce Wayne, a mix of peppery cologne and expensive suits and coffee beans. It was the smell of comfort, and home, and Dick would never forget it.

"You don't have to do this," Bruce murmured, holding Dick tight to his chest. It was almost a possessive act, as if he was afraid that if he let him go, he would loose him forever. "Jason… if we decide to do this, he can have another identity. It doesn't have to be Robin."

"Yes it does." Dick's voice was muffled against the soft fabric of his suit, and he had to bite his lip when he felt his throat constrict. "It saved me, Bruce. It can save him too."

He didn't know why he felt so strongly about it. Perhaps because he was so fearful for Jason's future, and for his state of mind. Gotham was terrifying, and Jason had to live alone in the worst of it for years. Sometimes Dick heard him crying in the middle of the night, and he was tempted to go into his room and tell him that it was okay to talk to Bruce about it, that he used to go running to his room with nightmares all the time when he was younger. But he couldn't, because he knew Jason would think it weak on his own part, so he tried his best to ignore the soft sniffling from behind the wall.

Bruce pulled away, and Dick quickly composed himself, blinking very fast to quell any tears that might make it past his lashes. When he found himself to be in a better condition, he looked up at Bruce and smiled. This was his father— maybe he couldn't replace the man he had lost to Tony Zucco, but he certainly did an amazing job at earning a special place in Dick's heart. He wondered what his parents would say to Bruce if they could meet him. He smiled wider, knowing that they would have been openly enthusiastic about their shared son, and proud too. That thought urged his tears to spill against his cheeks, and he quickly turned his face away, scrubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm.

"I'll go talk to him," Bruce said, patting Dick's shoulder as he moved past him. "You have six months to find your new identity."

"Okay." He didn't know what to say. It didn't feel like enough time to recreate his hero persona, and then he realized he wasn't recreating it. He was simply adopting a new name and changing his costume. "He's going to be really happy."

Bruce didn't answer. He simply looked down at Dick, his eyes following his face sadly, and he nodded. He moved from the kitchen without another word, and Dick let out a sigh, wondering if he had made the right decision, or if his team would understand why he had done it. More than anything he was glad he had convinced Bruce so easily, but he still felt the vacuous place where he had once placed his other self, his wings, his life. He'd just traded Robin away to a boy he'd only met a few months ago, and he'd never get himself back. He could hear a clock chiming somewhere in the house, and he wondered if it was signaling the loss of his childhood.

Still, despite all of that, he found himself smiling. He sat on the banister, listening as Jason shrieked with joy from up above, and he shook his head. He was happy Jason was here.

"Alfred," Dick whispered. The butler was standing only a foot or two away, watching him with a small, sad smile. He'd been listening the entire time, or else he would have chided Dick for sitting on the railing. "Did I do the right thing?"

"Oh, Master Richard," the old butler sighed. "What do you think?"

Dick didn't know. He could only hope he had, and pray that it didn't go horribly wrong.

* * *

_I totally lied to myself. I said I wasn't going to continue this unless I had ten reviews... but then I started plotting. Whoops._

_Basically, it's a multichap. Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, especially those who gave me positive feedback on the characters! That was definitely needed, and I'll continue to ask how I'm doing on them until I finish this fic._

_Also I neglected my NaNo today to write this chapter. Your welcome. _

_This fic won't be too long. Maybe ten chapters. I want to focus on the batfam's relationship, which will eventually include Barbara because she's amazing. I'd add Tim too, but that might cause issues, so if he shows up it will be very near the end. Anyway, I'll update this when I can. =] Reviews are appreciated! _


	3. Evolution of Birds

**fall and fail**

**{evolution of birds}**

"Again."

Jason gritted his teeth and flipped backwards, landing on the tips of his feet with great ease. He crouched, glaring up at Dick, who was smiling lazily at the boy. The first few months of Bat Training were the hardest, and he recalled the awful aching in his muscles as they desperately tried to adjust to the rigorous exercises Batman set for him.

Jason leapt up, his body slipping behind Dick and his leg darting out, smacking against the backs of the older boy's knees. Dick fell back, but curling into himself before he hit the ground, and he rolled easily into an upright position, catching Jason by the ankle when he went at him again. He dragged him to the ground, cackling a little, and Jason's other leg caught Dick in the stomach.

It actually did knock the wind out of him, but Dick couldn't stop laughing anyway.

"Oh my god," Jason growled, finally wrenching himself free. "Will you shut up?"

They were two months into Jason's training, and he was showing a lot of promise. They spent about four hours a day in the gym, sometimes without Bruce to supervise because of work, but when he did show up Jason pushed himself harder than usual. He was determined to beat Dick, and to become stronger than him. Dick didn't comment on it, but he felt a little disturbed by his determination to be a better Robin. Dick had gotten better at fighting as he aged, and though the boy was truly very good, he still had nothing on Dick Grayson.

"Gotta learn to deal with it, Jay." Dick winked, hopping to his feet. His stomach ached a little, but the pain was fading fast. At least Jason was getting stronger. "If you're dealing with Gotham, you have to ignore how annoying the person you're fighting is, or else they'll distract you."

"Is that how you win fights?" Jason grumbled, reeling back and hunching into a defensive position. "You annoy people until they get distracted and let their guard down?"

"Meh." Dick shrugged. He did use his… _charm_ to distract villains sometimes, but it was really just a trick. Definitely something that Jason should learn though, considering it was useful in a pinch. "It works better than you'd think."

Jason rolled his eyes, and he jumped at him again. He was getting faster, Dick realized, and he had the raise both his arms to shield his face from the double blow of Jason's kicks. He backpedalled and watched as Jason moved to drive his fist into Dick's chest. Dick sidestepped the smaller boy, and he drove the heel of his palm into his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Dick dropped to the ground and, quite literally, swept Jason off his feet with a swift swipe of his leg.

"Dead," Dick announced, bouncing back to his feet. He smirked as the kid groaned, rubbing his chest where he'd been hit. "You did really good that time, Jay."

"You still won," Jason grumbled. He pushed himself into a sitting position, blowing the hair from his eyes. "So I obviously wasn't good enough."

Dick sighed, and he looked up at Bruce. He was watching them, his face bearing the usual stoic mask of Batman. He found himself wondering what Bruce thought of Jason's progress, and made a note to ask him later when they went on patrol. Dick thought that Jason was doing great, and definitely exceeding expectations. Bruce was still going to force Jason to wait until the six months were up, though, even if he managed to beat Dick a hundred times.

"You left yourself too open when you went to punch me," Dick said, shrugging. Jason picked himself up, and frowned at the ground. Dick could tell he was making a mental note.

"Straighten your stance," Bruce stated, "and as Dick said, don't let your enemy distract you. Keep yourself focused on your mission, and don't get sidetracked. More likely than not, you're leading yourself into a trap."

Jason nodded sullenly, but Dick could tell he was taking their advice to heart. He was still adjusting to having this new life with Bruce and Dick, and it was obviously hitting him pretty hard. He didn't know how to handle school, especially not a school like Gotham Academy. Dick had been called to get Jason from detention several times in the past month, and though he never told Bruce, he warned Jason that he had to start shaping up.

"Again," Bruce repeated, and Dick nearly laughed as Jason's face twisted into a grimace.

They moved into their fighting stances, and just as Jason ran at Dick, the door opened. Dick hung close to Jason's side, deciding to use a different tactic on him, and every time he swung at him, Dick just simply danced around him and stuck to being his shadow. He stopped when he heard Alfred clear his throat.

Dick blinked, a little startled when Jason fist hit his chest, sending him stumbling. Jason then did exactly what Dick had during their previous fight, and dropped to the ground, sending Dick on his back with one sweeping kick. He would've laughed if he wasn't so out of breath.

"Drama queen," Jason cackled, leaning over his face. "Do you even know how to fall like a human being? You look like a girl."

Dick stared at him, and he shook his head, wondering if he'd cackled like that just to get on his nerves, or if he was just picking up little Robin things. "How do I fall like a…?" Dick shook his head and sat up. "You know what, never mind."

"Oh, by the way!" Jason grinned broadly, and he punched Dick in the arm. "Dead!"

"Yep," Dick grimaced, rubbing his arm. Yeah, he was definitely getting stronger. "You got me, Jay. Uh, Alfred?"

"Ah," Alfred said, shaking his head. "My apologies, Master Richard, but… it seems you have a guest."

Dick plucked himself from the ground, pushing Jason away as he moved to tackle him. "Barbara?" he asked confusedly, trying to remember if he'd discussed meeting with her today.

"Mister West."

Wally? Oh. "Crap," Dick hissed. By now news had spread across the world about Bruce Wayne's new ward. But Dick had refrained from telling Wally, which… well, had been a mistake on his part, but he'd also been following orders. "Well, this was bound to happen. Want to meet my best friend, Jay?"

"Barbara isn't?" Jason asked, frowning a little. He looked to Bruce for permission, but he was already gone. He probably had to head back to work anyway.

"No, we went over this. Just because I hang out with Barbara a lot does not mean that she's my best friend _or_ my girlfriend." Dick grabbed a towel, mopping up the sweat on his brow as Jason followed the suit.

"I think you're in denial, Dickie," Jason snickered, tossing his own towel around his neck. Dick flinched at the nickname, and reached out to snag the kid by the arm, but he was already darting out of the room, laughing as he went. Dick slumped, staring after him in amusement. Well, at least he was happy. Dick found that a happy Jason was probably the greatest thing in the world, especially in comparison to an angry Jason.

"He's stealing my laugh," Dick said, frowning. Alfred simply smiled at him as he passed.

Dick found Wally lounging in the living room, eating Alfred's cookies from a platter. Jason had stopped to wait for Dick, which had surprised him, but he appreciated it. He wasn't sure what Wally was going to say, or how mad he would be. Dick had warned Jason beforehand about not telling _anyone_ that he was going to be Robin, and that meant Wally too.

"Dude," Wally said through a mouthful of cookies. He glanced at Jason, but his expression remained the same. "Alfred's cookies. They're heaven, man."

"Did you miss them?" Dick smirked, folding his arms across his chest. Wally's answer was muffled by the three cookies he had decided to stuff into his mouth at once, but he was pretty sure that was a yes.

"Are you going to eat all of them?" Jason asked, a mixture of awe, disgust, and irritation.

Wally answered again, but the word just could not escape the cookie barricade, so Jason was left to stare. Dick smiled fondly, his shoulders slumping a little. Wow, he had missed Wally. Months of not hanging out with him had piled up, and now Dick was left wondering how he had handled it. Jason was great, but he wasn't his best friend.

When Wally swallowed, he set aside the platter of cookies and stood up. He was smiling a little, his hands stuck in his pockets, but he looked sort of bemused as well. Dick wasn't sure what to say, because he'd been pretty much ignoring him for four months. Well, ignoring him in comparison to how they talked before Jason had arrived.

"So," Wally said, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Um. Jason, right?"

"Yeah." Jason nodded, frowning a little. Dick looked down at him, and he smirked knowingly. Jason was definitely assessing Wally's size, and pocketing the information for later. He hoped the boy took Wally's speed into account before he did anything stupid.

"Cool." Wally rolled his shoulders awkwardly, shooting a look Dick's way. He wanted to talk alone. Figures. "So, I'm Wally, but I'm sure you've heard of me, because you know. I'm great. And Dick's best friend, but that's mostly because I'm great."

Jason raised an eyebrow and made a short scoffing noise. "You're his best friend?" Jason asked, folding his arms across his chest. "That's kinda hard to believe, considering I've never seen you before, and Dickie here never talks about you."

Dick groaned, grabbing Jason by the gruff of his neck. "Okay, nope, you've got to go."

"Hey!" Jason cried, twisting himself so that he could move to kick him. Dick shot him a warning look, and he quickly slumped into a less threatening position.

"He's lying," Dick told Wally, seeing the confused expression on his face. "And also really annoying. Stop calling me Dickie, Jason, it's really not flattering. Like, disflattering. It's disflattering."

"Your name is _Dick_," Jason laughed. "How could your name be any _less_ flattering? Dickie's an improvement!"

"No, it's really not." Dick urged him toward the door, shaking his head. "This is why I don't let you near civilization."

"Except Barbara." Jason's had twisted just enough for Dick to see his eyebrows waggle suggestively before he slipped from Dick's grasp and fled the room, cackling as he went. Of course. He was going to be doing that until he perfected it, probably, and the thought made Dick wince.

"Oh my god," Wally said when Dick turned around. "Dude. He's _you_."

Dick looked at the door, and he groaned. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"You're still that bad, sorry to break it to you." Wally laughed when Dick elbowed him playfully in the ribs, peering at him. They were nearly the same size now.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Dick said slowly. The atmosphere in the room had turned suddenly stifling. He really did feel guilty, even though Wally had made it clear he didn't seem to mind too much.

Wally stood awkwardly, his one shoulder shrugging as he tried to laugh off his nervousness. "No, it's fine, I get it." He nodded to the door. "Real life writes the plot, right? And the Bats didn't want anyone to know about the new protégé."

Dick couldn't find it in him to deny the protégé bit. He didn't want to lie to Wally, because he'd only be hurt when Jason showed up in the Robin costume a few months later. So he simply looked Wally in the eye, forcing himself to become as stony as Batman.

"Don't tell the team," he said quietly. "They're not allowed to know until we're sure he can handle it."

"You think Batman will let him? Join the team, I mean." Wally sat down, taking a deep breath. It seemed he wasn't sure what to make of Jason Todd.

If Dick was to be truthful, he didn't know what to make of Jason Todd either. He was annoying, and rude, and hard to take with one swallow. But he was also very conscious of his own faults, and he wouldn't let anyone turn them against him. He was proud, and naïve, and curious, and Dick could only be thankful that they had gotten to him before Gotham had crushed his spirit.

"I think there's a really good possibility of it, yeah." Dick carefully set himself down beside the redhead, glancing at the door. Alfred, he knew, was not eavesdropping, because it was Wally, and Alfred really didn't care about teenage boy chat. Jason was another story.

"Is he any good? You know, for a rookie."

Dick laughed, and he rubbed his chest reflexively, the ghost of Jason's fist still causing ache somewhere. "He's a bat," Dick said, leaning back into the couch. "I think if he keeps going at it, he'll be great."

"Better than you?" Wally teased.

Dick rolled his eyes, and he tugged the towel from his shoulder, tossing it over Wally's head. "We'll see."

"Ew! Dude, gross, I don't want your sweat all… ugh, I can taste it!" Wally shook the towel off him, plucking it off his lap and tossing it back at Dick. His face was twisted in disgust, his green eyes narrowed at the younger boy, who could only laugh in response.

After a few moments, Wally seemed to get antsy, as expected, and he jumped up. "Hey, can we visit Artemis? She misses you. I mean she won't say it, because she's Artemis, but she really does. Whenever we all bum around the cave she just kind of scowls at everyone. Except me, of course, because I'm dashing."

The thought of hanging out with Artemis and Wally was too alluring, and he found that he couldn't say no. He didn't want to say no. They were his best friends, and it had been a while since he really just sat around and talked with them. He really missed it.

"Sure," Dick said, smiling to himself. "And you know, I'm pretty sure you'd be the one she'd be scowling at especially."

"Shut up." Wally glared at him as he moved toward the door.

"Not a chance, Walls. Anyway, I need to shower, change, and tell Jason where I'm going. If you want to make yourself useful, you can amuse him for ten minutes."

Wally fell back onto the couch and waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going to finish these cookies."

* * *

Robin and Superboy were paired for a mission, which rarely happened. Usually Aqualad chose Artemis to be his partner, because they worked well together, easily reading each other's moves before they were even made. It seemed that this mission needed the brain and brawn to be very close to each other, else they wouldn't succeed. Robin didn't mind, because Superboy was great, but he found that he was unnervingly quiet. It wasn't the serious Bat silence either, more like an awkward uncertainty that came with Superboy's interaction with people.

They were waiting for Aqualad's say before Robin began hacking the mainframe of a Cadmus base in Ohio. They still weren't sure if it was absolutely necessary for them to break in, despite what Red Arrow insisted. However, they were prepared for the worst here, including the chance that they might find Project Match.

The mission was to inspect another one of Cadmus's secret bases, in hopes that there was some information locked away within its bowels about the missing Speedy. Batman had approved of the mission, given that they attempted to keep it as recon and not destroy the base. Well, he hadn't explicitly said not to destroy the base, but it was implied in his tone.

"Did you notice that all our missions have be recons lately?" Robin asked quietly, not budging from his crouched position behind a pile of crates. Superboy was hunched over a few feet away, looking uncomfortable because the boxes didn't hide his height well. He glanced at Robin, his lips tugging downward. Slowly, he nodded.

"I just figured that the bad guys have just kind of… been subdued for the moment." Superboy shrugged. "Why aren't we using the mind link?"

"Uh, because you're sitting right next to me, and we need to keep it open so we can hear Aqualad's command." Robin smiled, knowing that Superboy was only being cautious. Years with Batman had taught him how to spot paranoia. Luckily they weren't likely to be heard by any guards back here, so they were good.

"Oh." Superboy looked down, and said nothing more. The guy was still learning how to deal with people, and work out how conversations should end. But Robin had time to kill, and he honestly didn't talk to Superboy too much. He felt a little regretful realizing they're barely spoken more than a few sentences to each other over the past four months.

"How's training with Superman?" Robin asked, smiling when Superboy perked up. Wow, being around Jason was making him more perceptive to other people's feelings. Who would have thought?

"It's good," Superboy said softly. "He… keeps saying he's sorry for how he treated me before. That it wasn't right, and that I didn't deserve it. I don't think he sees me as a son, though."

Superman had gotten over his irrational fear of his clone after the New Years incident, and since then he'd been trying to make it up to Superboy. He was training him to fight with less aggression and more strategy, and teaching him about Krypton and normal Earthly customs. Robin was pretty sure Superboy was even allowed to crash in Clark Kent's apartment when the two of them ended up patrolling too late.

"But you're okay with that," Robin observed.

Superboy shrugged. He glanced around them, as if trying to find an eavesdropper, but it was a fruitless effort. Robin would know if someone was lurking about. "Well, yeah," Superboy said. "I mean, he's not ready to have a kid, and that's okay. I think we're more like brothers, kind of. It feels like what I'd imagine brotherhood to be."

Brothers. Robin slumped forward, smiling faintly to himself. Yeah, he could understand that feeling pretty well. "I'm really glad, Supey," Robin said. "You deserve to have a mentor just as much as the rest of us."

Superboy smiled as well, his own body seeming to relax. Through the mind link Robin could hear Artemis and Kid Flash arguing quite loudly, and he grinned when Beast Boy shrieked at them to knock it off. Their new team member was still learning the ropes, but they had allowed him to go on this mission for field practice. He was on look out with Miss Martian.

"He's been telling me stories," the boy admitted, his smile widening with contentment. "About Kryptonian legends, and mythology, and things. You know I think you'd like the one about the Nightwing."

Robin tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember why that title sounded so familiar. "Oh, hey," he whispered, chuckling a little to himself. "He told me that one! I mean, it was forever ago, around when I became Robin. Maybe even before that."

Superboy looked a little downtrodden and confused, his smile slipping into a small frown. Robin quickly amended his mistake, "I forget most of it, though. Wanna enlighten me? Something about justice, and heroism, and being a loner."

"He wasn't really a loner. He had a partner, and was determined to be Krypton's savior through whatever means accessible to him. He was a vigilante too, so that's why I thought you might like the story. The Nightwing is a type of bird on Krypton." Superboy smirked at Robin, who was staring at him incredulously.

"Batman," Robin breathed. "That thing you just described is Batman. Just with a different name."

Superboy rolled his eyes, still smirking at his friend. "Again, why I thought of you when I heard it."

Robin nodded, vaguely remembering Clark Kent telling him a more colorful version of the tale when he'd been young. It hadn't registered then that Nightwing and Batman were so similar, but maybe that was because it was before he had figured everything out. Hell, maybe the story had helped him figure it out. The entire idea of a Kryptonian Batman was unbearably silly, but at the same time Robin was drawn to it. Then, Dick looked up at Superboy, his eyes widening beneath his mask. Oh, the guy had no idea what he had just given him, did he?

"Nightwing," Dick muttered, testing the name on his tongue. "Catchy."

"I guess," Superboy said casually. "I mean, if you like that dark and foreboding feel, sure."

Nightwing. It was a name cloaked in a shadowy augur, something that felt heavy from the moment it left his lips. It wasn't Robin. It wasn't safe, or bright, or exciting. It was a name for a molting bird, and a boy who no longer knew who he was. Dick felt a chill shudder through him, and he felt himself retract into the folds of his cape, but it did nothing to stop the cold. He didn't feel secure inside his cape anymore. Maybe it was better that way, easier for him to let it go. He had been scared he might not be able to.

"Dark and foreboding. Pretty much the definition of a bat, don't you think?" Dick said it very quietly, but Superboy had still heard him. Of course. He peered at Dick strangely, as if he wasn't exactly sure what he meant by his words. If it was anyone else, it probably would have nagged them until they questioned the Boy Wonder. Why do you sound so sad, Robin? Are you all right, Rob? What did you mean by that, Robin?

But luckily, this was Superboy. And he really did not care to notice.

"_Robin and Superboy,"_ Aqualad said through their mind link. _"The perimeter is secure, and Miss Martian confirms the presence of geno-morphs inside the facility. We cannot say if it is Project Match."_ At this, Dick tapped at the computer in his glove, his fingers running across the projection of keys at a speed that would make Kid Flash choke.

"_Well,"_ Superboy thought, standing up. _"One way to find out."_

"_Robin, disable the security system and gather as much data as possible from their databank."_

"_On it,"_ Dick thought, pushing away his notion of Nightwing, and his dwindling time as Robin. _"Are Superboy and I permitted to approach now?"_

"_Are you done hacking?"_ Red Arrow's voice was very blunt and harsh inside Dick's head. The boy sighed, his eyes flickering over the small holographic screen. Aqualad was still the leader, so Red Arrow needed to pipe down.

"_Just about,"_ Dick thought, his fingers gliding swiftly over the keys, overriding the security commands. _"Right, got it."_

"_Then go. But remember, be discreet."_

Yeah right. Discretion and Superboy went together about as well as Jason and parties. Otherwise known as a disaster waiting to happen. Heavy on the _dis_.

* * *

Dick's soft footfalls could not be heard by anyone, except perhaps a bat. He examined the cut on his arm, which was no longer bleeding, and safely sewn closed. It wasn't anything too bad, and Alfred had stitched it up easily enough, but it had still worried the team a little bit. It was only a little bit of blood, so he didn't see the big deal.

The mission had been a let down. No Speedy, no Project Match, just some creepy files on Batman— which were hastily removed, and a brutal fight with an assassin who had left the moment he'd nicked Dick's arm. He let himself be scanned for traces of poison, but when he turned up clean he went straight home. He didn't want Batman to know about it, since the mission was almost pointless at this point.

He made a note to himself that his sleeves would extend to his gloves on his new costume. For Jason's as well.

Dick passed Jason's room, and he paused. It was a dreary winter evening, and the manor's wooden floors were icy beneath his toes. He had tried not to notice the cold while on the mission, because he'd been Robin then, wrapped up in layers of warm Kevlar. But now he was Dick Grayson again, cold and vulnerable… and an older brother.

Jason often had nightmares, but he contained them as best he could. Dick didn't want to pry, because he had been there, and he knew how it felt to have people know that you were hurting. But he just couldn't ignore the muffled whimpering sound anymore.

Very carefully he crept up to his door, standing outside it for a few moments, simply listening. He wasn't sure if Jason was awake, or if he was crying in his sleep. Dick wondered what he was dreaming about, and quickly decided he did not want to know. He had his own nightmares, and he didn't need Jason's to fill up his head and try and strangle him in the night.

Dick rapped his knuckles softly against the wooden door, listening as the sound echoed through the hall. The whimpering stopped, and for a few minutes Dick stood in silence. Then he heard a soft shuffling from beyond the door, and he heard the bedside lamp click on. Dick took a step back as the door creaked open, and Jason glared up at him with his cold blue eyes.

They were, as expected, red rimmed and swollen. Dick did not comment.

"You know," the boy croaked, rubbing his eyes. The action might have been passable as a tired gesture if Dick didn't know better. "I'm the only person in this house that sleeps. Why do you have to ruin it?"

"I have a new name," Dick said, shrugging. He saw interest spark in the boy's eyes. "Want to doodle some costume designs with me?"

Jason knew that Dick knew he'd been crying. Thankfully enough, he didn't seem to care, and he nodded eagerly, stepping aside for Dick to enter the room. The first thing he noted as the open pre-algebra book laying on the floor, and a copy of _The Diary of Anne Frank_ tossed on top of it. He was doing his homework at least. That was encouraging.

When Dick began explaining the Nightwing tale to him, Jason simple stared, his legs crossed over each other as he listened patiently. Dick decided catching Jason half-asleep was the most tranquil type of Jason he would ever find, which was unexpected, because Dick imagined he'd be even crabbier with less sleep. It seemed to be the opposite.

"It should be blue," Jason decided as he scrawled out a bird insignia in one of his school notebooks. Dick peered over at the drawing, and he decided it wasn't too bad.

"Why blue?"

"Because I'm wearing red! I'm Robin, so I've got to. Nightwing is such a broody name, you can't wear red or you'll just ruin the effect." Jason began to scribble shortened gloves on the little figure of Dick's body. "And motorcycle gloves. You should have motorcycle gloves."

"Ha ha," Dick said, pulling the notebook out from under him. "Not my style. But you can ask Bruce if your suit can have them."

Jason's eyes snapped to his, gleaming with awe and excitement. "Really?" he gasped. "Oh, sweet! Hey, what are you doing? Ew, no!"

Dick sighed as Jason tore the notebook from his hands, ceasing his drawing of the improved insignia. Jason took one look at it and tutted. "Stripes? To your fingers? Keep it simple, Dickie, we don't want the team to diss you for your horrible fashion sense."

They both ended up falling asleep on his bed, papers strewn across the room filled with costume ideas for the new Robin and Nightwing. Bruce ended up checking up on them, startling Dick half to death.

"What's this?" Bruce asked, not looking up from one of the more mediocre Nightwing costumes. Jason was snoozing softly beside Dick, his back curled against his side.

"A new costume." Dick looked down at Jason, and he smiled. "He's got some pretty cool ideas. Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I told him he could have motorcycle gloves."

Bruce arched an eyebrow, but said nothing in response to that. He jerked his chin at Dick's arm, where the stitches were visible beneath the flutter of his tee shirt. "What happened?" he asked in an empty voice.

Dick looked down at the stitches, and he sighed. "I'm going to need longer sleeves too," he admitted sheepishly.

* * *

_Personally I love the fingerstripes, I think they're fascinating. Jason's right though, Nightwing looks weird in red._

_This story is a lot easier to write than I thought it would be. I had the most trouble here with the mission, because I honestly don't understand how a person can come up with an original mission that cannot be described simply as 'recon'. I'll have to start writing down ideas for them. _

_I don't really know how much I changed the Nightwing tale. I just kind of combined all the origin story stuff I saw from various sources, and prayed it made sense. Oh, how did I do with Conner and Wally? _

_Brotherly bonding. =] Review, please, and thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter!_


	4. New and Improved

**fall and fail**

**{new and improved}**

Summer was so near that it could be tasted amongst the smog and miasma of Gotham City. The days grew longer, and Jason excelled in his training, and Dick was coming closer and closer to hanging up his cape. He and Jason had compromised with a very simple Nightwing design, which was composed of mostly dark grays and blacks, with nothing but the blue bird insignia to break the gloomy color scheme. He had yet to try it on.

The rare quiet night when he was not with the team or on patrol, he spent sparring with Jason. The boy did not need supervision any longer when exercising, but he did enjoy a good fight. The late spring air always tasted of sweat and haze, and in his ears he could hear the buzz of crickets and the gentle lull of the bat's wings as they took flight in the evening.

Bruce spent more time training with Jason than he did with Dick, which was understandable, but it made Dick uneasy and envious. For years he had been the one person Bruce Wayne's attention always snapped back to, no matter the situation. It was tough watching that fall away, and latch itself to a younger boy. Jason was becoming Robin. Dick was letting that part of him die.

He tried to keep his moodiness to himself— Jason was moody enough for the entire manor combined, and then some. But he still felt that his childhood was rapidly falling away, and suddenly he was left with the bare fear of what was to come. He was going to be a Junior, a step closer to graduating, and though he knew he could easily get into any college in the world, he found himself drawing a blank. Would he be able to juggle college and hero work? He handled himself fine now, but it was high school, which was hysterically simple. College was so different, it was like a whole new life of its own.

But Dick Grayson couldn't simply decide to not go to college. His teachers would probably chew him to pieces if they knew he was even considering that. He knew his parents hadn't gone to college, and that they had still been wickedly smart despite it. John, his cousin, had never attended school a day in his life, and somehow he had been able to name every country in the world and its capital. The thought of John sent a pang through Dick's heart.

He decided he had to go to college. He just wouldn't go anywhere that would expect too much from him, or take very many classes. Maybe after he pursued his fancies in the college world, taking only classes that would interest him, he would move on to get a job that wouldn't conflict with hero duties. Or maybe even give him an advantage. Like a police officer. Barbara would have a laugh at that.

Artemis would be graduating next year, leaving him alone at Gotham Academy except for Barbara and Jason. Dick was an amiable guy, but he didn't have very many friends. Most of the kids he had classes with did not care about him. Sure they spoke to him, but that was out of obligation rather than actual interest. Most of them had been around at the time of his transfer into the school at age nine, when he'd been subject to some harsh ridicule about coming from a circus.

Dick wasn't sure if he wanted any of this. He didn't want to be missing his childhood, not when he'd been so desperate as a kid to be old enough to be treated like an adult, but… he just felt so conflicted with the constant feeling of inadequacy. He never spoke of it, but he constantly found himself lost in thoughts of where his life was going, whether or not he was choosing the right thing, if he was good enough to continue…

For a person as confident as Dick Grayson, these thoughts hit him hard.

May turned to June, and final examinations plagued the mind of Barbara Gordon, so off Dick went to help her study. Not that she needed it much, with her memory, but Dick wanted to help. A grumbling Jason followed close behind, but only with the promise of ice cream. Barbara had taken to Jason immediately, though she took none of his shit. They often bantered, leaving Dick to stand and watch as Barbara attempted to knock Jason's arrogance down a few steps.

They argued about little things, and often the banter faded off without any real conclusion. Dick didn't really follow any of it, being the levelheaded member of their group. Whenever Artemis decided to join, he found himself wanting to sink into the ground with all the passionate personalities clashing at once. Sometimes she would drag Bette Kane along, which was the only time Dick was ever able to talk to her without her glaring at him. But those times were few, and Dick thought he would never understand why the girl seemed to hate him so.

Until, of course, Jason told him very bluntly.

"Wow, are you stupid? It's because she wants the D."

Dick found himself freezing, his spoon full of pistachio-hazelnut gelato hovering just before his lips. He saw Barbara's eyes flash wide, and her spoon dropped as she clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle her coughing. He blinked, his face suddenly uncomfortably hot, and he reached over to pat Barbara on the back. A few people glanced at them worriedly, but Barbara was already trying to shoo him off, her coughing lessening a little.

Jason was lost in his own hysterical laughter by the time Barbara had ceased hacking up a lung, and Dick had recovered a little bit of his dignity. Barbara's own tentative giggles caused him to sigh, rubbing his flushed cheek. "Okay, that was totally uncalled for," Dick murmured.

"But not untrue," Jason replied, grinning up at him. Dick didn't know how to deny it, because he had no idea in the first place. He had always thought Bette Kane hated him because of some superiority complex she had, not because she had any sort of crush on him.

"That could have been phrased a little better, Jason," Barbara said, her voice hoarse.

"I'm sorry," Jason said smoothly, his toothy grin becoming a sore sight. "But no, this entire scenario is a minefield of dick jokes. Such is the life of Richard Grayson."

"They're very unappreciated," Dick said, leaning back. He shot a worried glance at Barbara when she gave a little cough, but she simply shook her head, tapping her chest. "And you almost killed Babs with it. You should apologize, Jay."

"For what?" Jason rolled his eyes, and he dug at his ice cream lazily. "She's fine, and you're still oblivious to everything unless it's screaming in your face. I've got nothing to be sorry for, except maybe any woman who has the misfortune to be attracted to you."

Barbara had decided to stop listening and focus on studying the _encomienda_ system, so Dick was left to deal with Jason's boldness on his own. "Look, how was I supposed to figure out she liked me? Whenever I try to talk to her at school she ignores me."

"Because you're younger than she is by two years, and she's embarrassed." Jason sighed, setting his spoon down. "It's pretty obvious from the way she acts around you that she has a thing for you—"

"And you, oh wise thirteen-year-old, know all this stuff about girls because…?"

Jason looked rather annoyed that he was being doubted, and he glared at Dick over the table. Barbara sat quietly, though she did glance up when she noticed the silence. Briefly they shared a look, a knowing glance, and then Barbara went back to studying. Dick figured he should be doing the same, but he was still a little frazzled by Jason's choice of words.

"Call it a skill of observation," Jason sneered. "You see, when you hang around seedy bars while trying to find cash, you tend to notice certain things. Mostly cheap pick-ups. I saw a lot of messed up flirting, and I took note."

Barbara looked up, frowning, because she did not know the details of Jason's past before he had been taken in. All she knew was that he was orphaned, and had nowhere else to go. "Jason," she said, "why were you—?"

"Not important," he interjected. "My point is, Dickie here has trouble seeing what is right in front of him. Don't you agree, _Babs_?"

Barbara watched him, her blue eyes growing very indifferent. She closed her History book, setting it down gently beside her ice cream, and she shook her head. "Dick won't notice something unless he's actually looking. Little things like that slip his mind, because they don't seem initially important. Also, don't call me that."

"Dick can call you that," Jason said. "Why can't I?"

"Well," Barbara sighed, shooting a glare Dick's way. His hands shot into the air in defense, but she simply narrowed her eyes at him, causing him to swallow a remark. "Like you said, Dick is stupid. He is incapable of saying anything without massacring the words."

"But he's still allowed to call you Babs."

"Only to annoy me," Barbara said, her glare moving to Jason. He blinked at her, and he shifted uneasily in his seat.

"And I succeed every time," Dick cooed, and her eyes flashed to him. Jason grinned, his eyes darting between them.

"Dickie and Babs," Jason snickered. Barbara and Dick bristled and glowered at the boy, but he didn't seem to care. He was too busy trying to stifle his laughter behind his hands. "God, you two are more alike than I thought."

"Shut up and eat your ice cream."

* * *

The suit felt strange, too light without the warmth of a cape against his shoulders. It was strangely fluid, as if it were a second skin instead of a costume. Maybe that was how Wally felt all the time with his full body suit. The dark cloth washed him out, making his face appear strangely pale in the mirror. Dick never had especially dark skin, but he was used to the olive tint that came with his Romani heritage. Black suited him fine, but it seemed to erase the small bit of him that he had always thought special.

He looked like himself, though, as long as one ignored the costume. His face and body build did not change much, aside from appearing a little gaunter. He ran his fingers over the bold blue insignia that was emblazoned across his chest. A bird taking flight. A flying Grayson. A new identity, similar to the old one, but bigger. Bigger, and heavier, and darker. He was Nightwing. And now he had to prove it.

They would be upset that he had not warned them beforehand. He knew it, Batman knew it, hell, even Jason knew it. But under the circumstances, they needed to keep it from the team so they did not connect the dots with Jason Todd's sudden appearance in the Wayne Manor and the abrupt change of Robins. Their identities were still their most valuable secret, and no one on the team aside from Wally was allowed to know.

Though Dick figured Artemis was very close to realizing it. Hey, she had one more year, so perhaps she would. Then he could finally show her that dumb photo he had taken the first day of Freshmen year, and watch her face flush red with embarrassment and anger. Wally would laugh too, until Artemis turned on him, rattling off about how he didn't tell her, while the guy simply stuttered about scary bats and promises.

Nightwing leaned forward, his hand reaching out toward the mirror. He paused, and looked away, feeling foolish as his fingers hovered centimeters their reflection. It was hard to let go, but it had been equally hard to keep going. During his last few months as Robin, he'd grown tired with hearing the sound of his own cackles, and the cape that had comforted him for years felt like just another burden. It had to be because he knew he was leaving it behind… right? He was just preparing himself so he would be able to give it up.

It hurt as much as he thought it would. He understood that this was something he had to do to help Jason, but he wasn't sure if he could deal with leaving behind his childhood. He'd been Robin for nearly half his life. It wasn't something easily thrown aside, and he would never be able to forget how much his time as the Boy Wonder had impacted him. Sometimes he felt that being Robin seemed realer than being Dick Grayson.

He took a deep breath turned from the mirror. He needed to get used to the way Nightwing looked, because that was who he was now. He tried to smile, but it felt fake on his lips, and he could tell that he looked unsure. His thoughts were drifting in a sea of uncertainties, and he wondered when the current would stop beating him around and spit him back ashore already.

He moved into the Batcave, his steps inaudible against the floor. Bruce was sitting over the computer, his cowl pushed back to reveal his stoic face. He was staring at the screen until Nightwing stepped up behind him, the boy's body tense with anxiety. Bruce looked up at him, and though his eyes did not betray his sadness, his tentative smile did. Nightwing could only smile back, warmth tickling along his chest as he realized why. Bruce was going to miss having him around as Robin.

"Are you alright?" Bruce's concern did not make it into his tone, but Nightwing could see it gnawing at the man. He shrugged, his hand resting on his hip.

"It's just a little weird," Nightwing said. He looked around for Jason, but he already knew where the boy was. He was spending just as much time inspecting his reflection as Dick had. "I'll get over it in a bit."

Bruce nodded, not prying any further, and for that Nightwing was thankful. He leaned over, peering up at the multiple screens. He noticed a tab open on a man with dark brown hair, a face lined from stress, and dark bags under his cold blue eyes. Bruce caught him staring, and he closed the tab swiftly.

"Was that…?" The man's face had left Nightwing's mouth feeling dry, and he straightened himself up to gain some more composure.

"Yes." Bruce was now occupying himself with a different tab, which appeared to be about some drug issues and border disputes in Mexico. "Don't say anything."

"I won't." He didn't want to. Jason had grown up without his father, and he would be livid if he found out that the man was still lurking somewhere in Gotham. He did not appear to have any want for Jason, but they couldn't be completely sure. Nightwing knew there was no way his father could legally win back his son, not with Bruce's lawyers being the hounds that they were, but there were other means. He knew that they were going to need to keep an eye on this situation until they knew for sure.

Nightwing heard a familiar flutter, and he turned in time to see a blur of red and yellow as a body came somersaulting into the room. He landed, but could not keep himself still, so he simply curved into a handspring, his black and yellow cape flapping as he laughed.

"Look!" Robin gasped, his masked eyes growing wider with delight. He spun on his toes, his arms spreading wide in the air as the cape settled around him. His costume was very similar to the one Dick Grayson had previously worn, with some subtle differences. His sleeves were long, matching Nightwing's down to the very color of the extra padding at the inner elbow. His tunic was a little longer, and it was cut in a sharper way, highlighting the muscles of his torso and abdomen. At his throat there was an extra yellow clasp, and as promised his gloves were styled short, and trimmed with red. "I can't get over it! I'm _Robin_!"

The disbelief in his voice was a little jarring. Perhaps Jason feared that he would wake up one of these days on the streets of Gotham, finding that all of the good things that had happened to him in the past several months had been a dream. When first arriving at the manor after the orphanage, Dick had felt similarly.

"Yeah," Nightwing said, smirking to himself. Robin spun around, his cape whipping behind him. "You definitely are."

Bruce stood up, pulling his cowl over his head before he turned to face the young Robin. Nightwing watched as he nodded in what could only be approval. The costume was safer than his had been, packed with extra layers of Kevlar, and covering more skin. Robin was shorter than Nightwing by about a head, but he had a bulkier frame than he had at thirteen. Not that he wasn't lean, he just appeared to have more muscle. He hadn't been born to acrobats, so it was not surprising.

"Are you ready, Robin?" Batman asked. Robin looked up at him, his entire face lighting up with excitement.

"Born ready!" His jaw set in determination, a small smirk resting on his lips. He tipped his head back, his eyes closing wistfully as his body relaxed. Nightwing moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as Batman motioned toward the zeta beam. He mentioned staying behind for a few minutes, and neither Robin nor Nightwing questioned it. Robin looked up at Nightwing, his expression reflecting his utter joy. He breathed, his voice drowning in his enthusiasm and exhilaration, "This is the best day of my life."

Nightwing decided he would never regret giving up Robin, because Jason Todd's pure elation was enough for him to put aside his insecurities and truly be proud. He'd done the right thing. He was sure of it now.

* * *

The Cave was quiet when he stepped through the zeta beam. He peered around, listening as Robin arrived behind him. He was vaguely aware of what their mission would be tonight, but Batman still had to fill them in on all the details. Nightwing wasn't really concerned with that, though, because he was too busy worrying about Robin. What if he hadn't trained enough? He never had any background in acrobatics before, and six months wasn't enough to become a pro. If he got hurt on his first night patrolling Gotham…

No. Nightwing had to have more faith in him. He was a smart guy, he could handle it. Considering his own first patrol hadn't ended in complete disaster, he should believe that Robin could take care of himself. Plus, it wasn't like Batman was going to ditch him. Nightwing knew how patrols were conducted, and Robin was not going to slip Batman's grasp his first night out.

"Robin," Nightwing said, turning to look at the younger boy. He was not at his side though, and he swore softly. He should have expected this. Nightwing shook his head, and he moved deeper into the cave until he spotted Artemis and Kid Flash, debating heatedly about the zeta tubes' error. He smiled and rolled his eyes. Some things would never change, no matter how much they claimed to love each other.

Nightwing snuck up behind Kid Flash, opening his mouth to throw in his two cents, but then he saw Artemis's eyes go wide. "Intruder!" she growled, smacking Kid Flash out of her way, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and notching it before it registered to Nightwing that she did not recognize him.

Kid Flash looked at him, a spark of fear in his eyes. Then he really took a look, and the fear melted into pure confusion. Then shock. Then horror. "Uh, Artemis, wait, I don't think—"

The bowstring snapped as she released the arrow, and Nightwing blinked, stepping aside at the last moment. Still, he was a little too close for comfort, so he snatched the arrow from the air anyway. He held it for a moment, smirking at the astonishment that shone in Artemis's grey eyes, before he quickly looked down to check what arrowhead she had used.

"Nope," Nightwing laughed, tossing the arrow aside. The tip burst open when it hit the ground, a black net pooling along the floor. "Not quite, Arty. Guess again!"

Artemis faltered when she notched another arrow, her eyes widening. She seemed to have put two and two together, his voice, his face, and the 'error' the zeta tubes had made in announcing his presence. Kid Flash poked Nightwing's shoulder, biting his lip as his body swayed lazily. Robin reappeared beside Artemis, his eyes flashing to the discarded net arrow.

"Did you seriously just catch an arrow in midair?" Robin frowned when Artemis jumped back, training her bow on him instead. Nightwing noted that he looked at the arrowhead before disregarding her as a threat. "Can I do that?"

"No." Nightwing sighed and shook his head. "That was a reflex. Not something you need to worry about right now."

"Lame." Robin glanced at Artemis, and he smirked up at her. "You know, it's kinda rude to point weapons at kids. You should be ashamed."

Nightwing's eyes narrowed. Jason Todd knew Artemis well enough from the times when she hung around Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon, but he did nothing then but argue with her over trivial things. Artemis only looked more confused at his words, though she lowered her bow, the arrow still notched.

"What… is going on here, exactly?" Artemis's eyes flashed between Robin and Nightwing, her body language giving away her alarm.

"Robin got replaced," Kid Flash observed, his voice quiet.

"What?" Artemis blurted, unable to contain the terror in her voice. She looked at Robin, her gaze becoming hostile as she came to her own conclusion about the young Boy Wonder.

"No," Nightwing said. He glared at Kid Flash, irritated that he sounded so bitter about it. He could have the grace to not sound disappointed in front of Robin. "Okay, wait, let me explain—"

The shuffling of feet alerted him to more teammates to make excuses to, so he cut himself off to wait for them to arrive. He spotted Miss Martian first, as she floated forward, Beast Boy gliding along side her in the form of a hawk. He quickly landing, his body shifting as he went back to his normal body. He couldn't hold his shifts for very long, but he was steadily getting better. Superboy walked in as well, followed by Rocket and Zatanna, and then Aqualad, Aquagirl, and Tempest. The latter two had joined the team very recently after a mission in Atlantis that had convinced them to want to see the surface world.

Nightwing caught Zatanna's eye, and he smirked at her. She looked a little surprised, but otherwise she recognized him just fine, and smiled back. Her eyes trailed up and down, rising in approval. None of the others recognized him straight away, but he could hear Rocket making a suggestive comment to Aquagirl, and he found himself stifling a laugh. It was funny, because she would have never thought twice if he were in his Robin costume.

Miss Martian was the next to recognize him, just after Beast Boy walked up to Robin and frowned at him. "Oh!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Robin?"

Robin looked at her expectantly, before he followed her gaze and paused. Nightwing shared a look with him, and Robin sighed, moving past Beast Boy to stand at his side. "Actually," he said stiffly. "I'm Robin now."

"Way to put it bluntly," Nightwing murmured. Robin shrugged.

"What do you mean _you're Robin now_?" Superboy asked, his eyes narrowing with distrust. Robin snorted, folding his arms across his chest as he assessed Superboy similarly to how he did when he first met Wally. Nightwing glanced at the zeta beams, hoping it wouldn't take Batman too long to sort out the issue of Jason's father.

"He's Robin now," Nightwing said in unison with Robin, who had to repeat himself, he with an indignant scowl, and Nightwing with a small smile.

The stares they got would have been funny if Nightwing didn't feel so guilty about not telling them. Kid Flash sucked in a breath, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. He was the only one who understood the situation, but he simply couldn't fathom why Jason was Robin instead of Dick. It would be something he'd need to explain.

"Okay," Artemis groaned, "officially confused now. Who is this kid?"

"It's really not that hard to remember," Robin said. He pointed to the bright yellow R on his breast. "Look, I'm even labeled."

"Guys, this is my little brother," Nightwing said, ignoring the dirty look Robin gave him. This caused a few murmurs, and Nightwing looked to Aqualad. As expected, the stoic boy watched him with a look of sympathy in his pale eyes. He gave him a nod, a sign that he understood what was going on, and that he had his support. "From now on, he is Robin, not me. I know it's really sudden, and confusing, but in all honesty it's been a long time coming. I just wasn't allowed to tell you about it."

"This is why you've been practically AWOL for months?" Clarity suddenly flickered in Artemis's gray eyes, and she looked to Jason. "You've been training him."

"Guilty," Nightwing said sheepishly.

"You never told us you had a brother," Zatanna said, walking up to Robin and taking in his appearance. Robin frowned at her, his eyes flickering to her uniform, and Nightwing saw him grin.

"Magician's daughter," he chuckled, prodding Nightwing's side. He was hushed in response, but Zatanna had caught on, and she quirked an eyebrow at her ex-boyfriend.

"There's a lot I don't tell you," Nightwing admitted, hoping he didn't sound as guilty as he felt. Beast Boy's tail flicked as he sauntered up beside Robin again, grinning at the new Boy Wonder.

"So," Superboy said, frowning at the scene before him. "You've been training a new Robin for months… with full intention to give him the identity… and you didn't tell us?"

Robin shifted uncomfortably, watching Beast Boy's tail move with a strange look on his face. Then he looked to Zatanna, his body going stiff under the scrutinizing gazes. "If you had to live with Batman, you'd understand," Robin said simply.

Nightwing was surprised, but thankful that Robin had spoken up for him. It didn't excuse the fact that none of them had been forewarned, but it personally made him feel better, and his guilt began to dissipate. He saw Zatanna's face light up with understanding, and she nodded. It seemed that she, Aqualad, Aquagirl, Tempest, and Beast Boy cared the least about the costume change. The latter three because they hadn't been on the team long enough to get fully attached to the persona. The former two because they trusted Dick's choices, and believed that he had the right to not tell them. He loved them for that.

"Well, the thing is," Artemis said, slinging her bow over her shoulder, "none of us live with Batman. So enlighten us, why the change?"

"Personal reasons," Nightwing answered. Artemis scoffed, her shoulders tensing as she made her own judgments. "Batman didn't replace me, Artemis. I'm the one who suggested this, and if you're going to be mad, be mad at me. Can I introduce him to all of you now?"

At that, the team shared a few guilty glances, their eyes falling between the young Robin and the older one, Kid Flash was the only one who did not seem to be fazed by his words, likely because he had been the only person on the team that he could have told. Nightwing had just chosen not to. Even Artemis softened up a bit as she looked at Robin, and the way he held himself against the judging stares. She looked less intimidating now, and more tolerant.

"Of course, Ro— oh." Miss Martian faltered, her brown eyes flying wide. She looked at Superboy, who seemed to still be trying to understand the situation, and then she floated down before Nightwing. Her cape fluttered around her, and her shortened red hair fell gently at her ears. She'd cut it after Beast Boy had arrived. For a few weeks he couldn't look at the Martian girl without bursting into tears, until finally M'gann realized the problem, and she altered her appearance a little to make herself look less like Marie Logan.

"Nightwing," supplied the once Boy Wonder, throwing a smirk Superboy's way. He was startled out of his confusion, his mouth opening to comment. And then he seemed to realize, and he stared for a moment, before giving a hesitant smile back.

"Nightwing?" Kid Flash echoed. He laughed suddenly, his green eyes barely betraying his hurt feelings. Nightwing knew he was going to need to talk with him alone for a little while to fully explain. "You know, that actually sounds half manly? Wow, dude, I believe this is what the literati call the rite of passage."

"Literati?" Robin muttered, frowning at the ground. Nightwing looked at him, and he found himself feeling particularly dogmatic, so he decided to bother the boy about it.

"One of your vocabulary words," Nightwing said. The look of panic that crossed Robin's face was rather priceless, and the boy whipped around to face him.

"Since _when_?"

"Right now." Nightwing grinned, watching Robin's face flush with aggravation. Oh, he liked being a teacher. It was a whole new way to troll people, and he liked that Robin had no choice but to go look up the word when he got home. Jason Todd would be starting summer school soon, and he needed to be prepared for high school level testing. Kind of difficult when missing nearly five years of education compared to your peers.

"That isn't fair," Robin objected.

"You shouldn't have made it so obvious that you don't know what it means," Nightwing replied.

"I know what it means!" Robin snapped. "It's… got something to do with literature."

"Not totally wrong. But you still have to look it up."

It was then that Nightwing noticed that the team was looking at them strangely, and he pulled back on his scholarly instincts. Not the time or place. Wally in particular seemed to be scandalized.

"Dude," he whispered. "Are you _satan_?"

"I think this is the most mature trolling I've seen from Robin— ugh, _oops_, Nightwing— ever. As in, as long as I've known him." Artemis looked as if she wanted to approve of it, but she was too creeped out to really entertain the thought. Instead she looked sort of sympathetic, suddenly not so angry with the new Robin.

"He's not mature at all," Robin grumbled, glaring at Beast Boy when he began tugging on his cape.

"So are you joining the team?" the green boy piped up, looking much too excited about having someone closer to his age around.

Robin tore his cape from the boy's grasp, shuffling closer to Nightwing's side. It seemed to be more by instinct than anything else. "No, I—"

_Recognizing: 02 Batman_

The entire team seemed to jump out of their skins at the notice for Batman's arrival. Nightwing sighed, realizing they hadn't managed to do what they came for, and Batman would be a little less than enthusiastic about that. Robin looked up excitedly, a grin forming on his lips.

Batman ignored the tense atmosphere, merely stepping between them as the team parted to let him through to the computer. For a few moments he typed, before the tab Nightwing had seen earlier came up. Not the one about Jason's father, the one about a nasty drug issue in Mexico.

"Tijuana," Nightwing murmured, recalling the city that rested very near the Mexico/California border. He realized they needed to be careful, or else they'd end up starting a turf war if they stepped on the wrong toes.

"Mexico?" Robin whistled. "Kinda jealous."

"It's not what you're thinking at all, Robin," Nightwing sighed. It would be an easy mission— not recon, at least, but still simple. He would rather stay in Gotham and make sure Jason didn't run into any snags on his first night as Robin. But he wouldn't.

"If he's thinking what I think he's thinking," Artemis said, the corner of her lips twitching up, "then I like the way he thinks."

Robin turned to look at Artemis, and they shared a smirk before Batman turned to look at him. The smirk immediately slid from his face. Nightwing found himself glaring at Artemis. "I personally question the legality of what you're implying, and therefore deny you the privilege to speak to my little brother," Nightwing stated, clapping his hands over Robin's ears and turning him toward Batman. He squirmed and pushed Nightwing away, but did not say anything more.

"I see that all of you have met Robin," Batman said in his usual voice, dark and devoid of emotion. "He will not be joining this team for now, but he will in the future. I trust you will remember that, and treat him accordingly."

Nightwing wondered if Batman could sense the unease between the team at the thought of a new Robin. He figured yes, and held in a sigh. It would grow on them. He looked around to see the majority of the team nodding, except for Kid Flash. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking like he simply just wanted to talk. _I should have told him_, Nightwing thought glumly. _I should have trusted him to not question my decision or sway me from it_.

The fact was, Nightwing hadn't. That was his fault.

They were told their mission, which was as he expected, to intercept an experimental drug trade in Tijuana before the drug hit the streets. Quickly, Robin decided to rattle off everyone's names, matching faces to them with ease. It wasn't hard to do, knowing each of their specific talents, but they all seemed mildly impressed. The only time he faltered was with Tempest and Aqualad, and that was an honest confusion.

"Robin," Batman said. Robin heeded the warning in his voice, and moved quickly to his side. He waved at the team, smirking one last time at Artemis before he turned to depart.

Nightwing couldn't help himself. "Oh, Robin, just so you know," he said placidly. "Just because you'll be home before me, doesn't mean you can skip studying."

The glare Robin shot over his shoulder was formidable, and it sent him laughing. Beast Boy laughed along with him, and a few others managed some uneasy chuckles. Robin glanced worriedly up at Batman, who had paused to allow him to retort. But he didn't. He simply slumped, and nodded somberly.

"If I'm too tired, I'm not gonna do it, though," Robin stated. "I'll just fall asleep anyway, because History is boring, and I don't care about the Parthenon."

"Try." Nightwing shrugged, waving him off. Robin shot him one last glare before turning around and hurrying toward the zeta beam. "And good luck, Robin."

* * *

_I'll be honest, this is pretty uneventful (but needed). What I have planned for the next chapter will make up for it. Also, I couldn't help the dick jokes. Too many 'want the D' crap going around tumblr lately, and my friend convinced be to put it in. It fit. And I'm ashamed of it, like you have no idea._

_So many characters, I'm scared I messed them all up. I'm not sure how Wally would act, but I think he'd definitely feel snubbed if Dick didn't tell him something this important when he could have. Oh, and I wanted to put Barbara in this one. Hence the ice cream scene. My god, my attempt to understand Bette Kane was poor. I don't like her much, but that's probably because her attitude toward Dick went from snobby to... well, did the tie in comic imply she slept with him, or what? The fact that she maybe slept with him doesn't bother me, just the fact that I have no idea how they got that way. _

_Also found out via Ask Greg that Barbara had a crush on Dick during the first season. My theory is that she noticed how he acted around girls, and decided she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing, so she kept it bottled up. Why boost Dick's ego when she loves to deflate it? That's my take on it._

_Review please. =] _


	5. Cage a Bird

**fall and fail**

**{cage a bird}**

After a successful mission, Nightwing explained, as he promised to, why his 'little brother' had taken up the identity of Robin. He left out the details of Jason's past, only putting emphasis on how Robin had been in a really tough situation before deciding he wanted to help Batman and Nightwing fight crime. He had to mention a few times that it had been his idea for the younger boy to take up the name and appearance of Robin, so he would be able to learn to ropes quicker as Batman's partner. There was some confusion, and questions about whether or not Nightwing was still working with the cowled vigilante, to which he responded _of course_. Batman was still his mentor, and he was still his protégé, but he was no longer his partner. Gotham was still his home, and his patrol station, but he would be allowed to break away from the Dark Knight and Boy Wonder if it pleased him.

There was a mixture of awe, jealousy, and worry radiating from his teammates. He didn't blame them. It was strange knowing he had the freedom to go off on his own in Gotham City while Batman and Robin patrolled. Eventually they accepted his story, though they had trouble with remembering to call him Nightwing. They would get it eventually, he figured. Now he only worried about Wally.

"I'm sorry," he said, after pulling his friend aside while everyone else departed.

Wally looked at him, his green eyes narrowing through the holes of his cowl. His windswept red hair fell against his forehead, clashing with the yellow suit, and the older boy could only sigh. "Why didn't you say something?" Wally blurted, his eyes going wide. He looked around, but no one was there to listen. The denizens of the Cave had already slumped off to their rooms, too tired to notice their friends' strange actions.

"I'm sorry," Nightwing repeated. He looked down at his hands, hearing the pain in Wally's voice. He was probably wondering what he had done wrong to warrant this distrust. "I… I thought you might try and convince me not to do it. To give Jay a different hero identity, not Robin. I wasn't sure I would…"

"You thought I would what?" Wally didn't look angry, but more irritated, and incredulous. "Rob, you're my best friend! If you wanted to do this, I wouldn't stop you! I just wish you told me."

"You can't call me that anymore," Nightwing murmured. Wally stared at him, sadness echoing in the green gaze. They were nearly the same height, and so it wasn't difficult for Wally to hold the fixed stare. He looked as if he wanted to say something in response to that, but he didn't. He only nodded, his hand reaching out for a moment. It dropped back to his side.

"Whatever, man," Wally muttered. "Nightwing, Robin, whatever. Look, I'll talk to you later, okay? Maybe… I dunno, I can get to know him a little better? He's a lot like you, except way snappier."

"He's tough," Nightwing said. He managed a small, fond smile as he thought about it. "He had to be, living the way he did."

Wally glanced at Nightwing, and it was obvious that he wanted to ask what he meant by that. But he didn't. He simply nodded to his friend, looking down at the floor for a few moments, before he turned toward the zeta beams. "Next time," Wally said quietly, "can you… can you just tell me before you make big life changing decisions?"

"Yes," Nightwing said immediately. He wasn't sure if that was the truth. By the look on his face, Wally wasn't sure either.

But he smiled anyway, and left without another word.

* * *

Jason was doing pretty well on patrol. Nightwing joined Batman and Robin often enough during patrols, and he was already getting a bit of a reputation amongst the miscreants of Gotham. They called him the Dark Knight's shadow, a wisp in the night, and though none of the big name villains cared to notice him, the lower level criminals could sense that the darkly clad boy was trouble for them.

Summer bloomed with fluxes of heat waves and chill spells. The sun would beat down on them through the dreary gray clouds above Gotham's skyline one day, and the next the world would be draped in a the acrid taste of rain, which threatened to beat down on the citizens of the city. Crime was constant, but the rate was level. No increase or decrease, simply the usual routine of muggings and drug deals and assaults and homicides. Barbara would speak to him about it in a hushed voice whenever Jason left them alone. She was still stealing case files, which amused Dick to no end. The Commissioner really needed to lock up his stuff better.

Bruce did not say anything more about the issue of Jason's father. Dick didn't mind, because he didn't want to know. He got into disputes with the boy over silly things, like school and little actions that triggered the other's anger easily. But nothing stopped them from perching themselves atop the roofs of Gotham in the night, smiling out at the hazy horizon, and letting themselves be overtaken by the lights that glittered across their city.

They were strange, the birds of Gotham City. They chirped their tunes without fail, and laughed while they did so. They kept the Bat sane, and kept each other whelmed, and they protected as much as their city as they could. Whenever Nightwing went on team missions, he felt a strange twinge of sadness, because he was leaving his brother to fend for himself. _Batman will protect him_, Nightwing reasoned. _Like he protected me_.

It always turned out true. Batman was always there for them, and Dick had faith in him. He couldn't find it in him to believe in anything else.

Dick sat with Barbara and Jason in the ice cream parlor, a usual activity after picking Jason up from summer school. Alfred had allowed them to walk to their destination after some begging, and now it was a regular routine. Dick picked up Barbara from her house, they argued a little, swore to have Jason judge them on their gymnastics skills later, before they settled down and began talking about cases. Barbara was determined to solve the crimes that had been put on hold for years, cold cases that seemingly could not be cracked. Dick figured it out. The fact that the cases were so difficult was like a written statement challenging Barbara's pride. She had no choice but to try.

"Whoever created math deserves a spot in Arkham," Jason grumbled, leaning over his algebra homework. Dick chuckled and leaned over the table, careful not to knock over the cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream the boy had gotten.

"It was more of a discovery than a creation," Dick said, pointing at one of the equations Jason had written down. "And you need to take the reciprocal for this one."

"Math isn't that bad, Jason," Barbara said. She had a book in her lap that detailed ways on how to hack encrypted files. Dick had decided not to question it, but he might've suggested a few techniques that books couldn't teach, just in case she decided to take a steadier interest in hacking. For some reason, he was rather excited about the thought. Another thing that they could compete at.

"Says the girl with photographic memory," Jason said dryly. "School must be a pinch for you."

Barbara didn't deny it. Dick had met a lot of amazing people in his life, but Barbara Gordon still bewildered him. She pursued all of his interests without realizing he was interested in them, all the while being nearly as smart as Dick. The photographic memory helped, but it was her comprehension of the complex theorems and equations that earned his respect.

"Sometimes it is," Barbara said. She looked at Dick, who merely shrugged and settled back in his seat. "But still, math is fundamentally the core of everything we do. We would never be able to go through basic living without using some sort of math."

"Yeah, yeah," Jason sighed. He stood up, tossing his pencil on the textbook as he brushed a dark curl from his eyes. "I'm going to the bathroom. Keep it PG, kiddies."

Barbara objected, scowling at the thirteen year old, "What is that supposed to—?" She was silenced when Dick placed a hand on her arm.

"Ignore him," he said. "He knows not what he implies."

"Oh, I think he knows exactly what he was implying." Barbara slumped in her seat, looking down at the open book in her lap. Her red hair fell in waves around her face, curling a little at her cheeks. Barbara was very pretty, Dick realized. Not quite like Zatanna, whose beauty was very sharp and concise. Barbara had a very soft face, and her eyes were larger, and a more watery blue. Her cheekbones were high, but subtle, never really distracting the rest of her face.

They were sitting in the far corner of the shop, careful not to attract too much attention to themselves. The Commissioner's daughter along with Bruce Wayne's wards all alone out in Gotham was risky. But they only had about half an hour until Alfred picked them up anyway.

"He thinks we're secretly dating," Dick explained. Barbara looked up at him, and he could tell she'd already noticed. Her eye twitched in annoyance, and she shook her head.

"And what, might I ask, gave him this brilliant idea?" She sounded amused, which was good. At least she wasn't offended, or anything, like he thought she would be at the idea of dating _Grayson_, the asshole that claims her rightful throne of highest GPA in the class.

"I think it's because you're the person he sees me around the most." Dick smiled at her, but she only stared back, causing him to tilt his head. "Is something wrong?"

"No." She rolled her eyes and closed her book. "Nothing, I just— what is Jason doing?" She jumped to her feet, her voice heightening in panic.

Dick followed her gaze, and saw through the window near the entrance that Jason was standing on the sidewalk, his arms folded across his chest. He was scowling up at an unknown man, who stood beside a running car. Dick felt himself throwing his chair back and bolting to the door, not registering the cries of shock that followed. He did hear Barbara's voice, and her frantic footsteps behind him. He flung the door open, just in time to see Jason's eyes flash to his. Then the man grabbed Jason by his neck, shoving a cloth over his face.

"Let him go!" Dick growled, his hand flying to his waist. He froze. Civvies. He wasn't Nightwing right now. He could do nothing to stop this kidnapping. He watched helplessly as Jason's eyes rolled back, and his thrashing stopped, and the door of the car opened. Two more men came slithering out, their faces concealed by masks. Figured.

"Jason—" Barbara gasped, lowering her cellphone. Dick could hear Commissioner Gordon's voice shouting through the speaker. Smart girl. But the police couldn't help them right now.

Dick knew what he had to do. Jason was already in the car, and he had no other choice. He felt himself fly forward, sending a half-hearted punch into the first man's gut, and ignoring Barbara's scream when he was seized from behind. He found himself praying they would leave her alone. Of course, he hadn't accounted for Barbara's impulsive nature.

"Don't touch him!" she snarled, slamming her elbow into his assailant's side, forcing him to spin around to face her. Her phone went clattering to the sidewalk, the case bouncing it away from harm. Dick stared at her as she forced the heel of her foot into the man's stomach, sending him staggering for a few moments. His grip on Dick was lost, and for a moment the boy found himself grabbling for Jason's shoes. Maybe they could all get out of this…

The sound of flesh meeting flesh, a loud, sickening _smack_ forced him to look back at his friend. The man she'd attacked had backhanded her in the mouth, and now she was on the ground, looking startled. Her lip was busted, and blood trickled down her chin in rivulets. The red was darker than her hair, and Dick lurched forward at the sight of it, his body reacting without his mind's consent.

"Barbara!" he shouted, his arm flying out to her. He was caught by the hood of his sweater, and he choked on his cries. The last thing he saw before being thrown into the car beside Jason was the man bending over his friend's tiny body, and grabbing her by the glossy strands of her red hair. She was still screaming his name.

* * *

They placed a bag over his head half an hour later. They did not speak, not even when provoked, and so Dick did the only thing he could do. He held Jason's limp body, and he closed his eyes, trying to keep the memory of Barbara's fearful gaze out of his mind. _She's strong_, Dick thought. _And she called her father. She'll be fine. She's Barbara, she's not just some civilian. She's stronger than she looks. She'll be fine._

He wished he could believe that.

He knew they were heading out of Gotham. That was the first indication that these kidnappers were competent. Wherever they were being taken, the first assumption would be that they were still in Gotham. Dick hoped the tracker in his molar was working, because otherwise Batman was going to have to think outside his comfort zone.

That reminded him, he needed to get Bruce to install one in Jason's tooth. If Dick hadn't made sure he had been captured too, Bruce would have had trouble trying to locate them. He felt bad for the boy, recalling how much the installation had hurt. Dick held the boy's body closer to his own. He was glad that Jason was unconscious for this part. The anxiety would kill him.

The car slowed to a stop, and Dick let out a tiny breath of relief. Well, that part was over. Now for the interesting bit. He heard the door open, and a pair of hands grabbed him by the arms, pulling him from the car. He was forced to let go of Jason, and stumble to his feet.

He would have made a quip if he had been Nightwing, but he wasn't. He was stuck being helpless in his civvies, as usual when Dick Grayson was kidnapped. But Batman always came. They would be okay soon, once news got to Bruce what had happened. Dick let himself get pulled and pushed, until finally he was dragged through a door. He took a deep breath, chewing his tongue to keep himself from asking where Jason was. Soon, he was shoved to the ground, and the bag was ripped from his head.

Jason was beside him, still unconscious. His body was slumped against a wall. "Jay…" Dick murmured, reaching toward him with his bound hands. He recoiled when a whipping cane snapped across the back of his hands.

He looked up at the man who had done it, his glare searching the masked face. "What do you want?" Dick asked, his voice low. "Money?"

The man simply stared. Dick shifted his position so Jason's head was leaning against his shoulder. Dick's eyes widened as the man grabbed him by the chin, tilting his head back. Dick stared through the eyeholes of his mask, and he gaped. There was nothing behind them. The man had no face. Wires and circuits glowed faintly where skin should be. He choked, twisting his head away as the… the robot stuck its fingers into his mouth and pain shot through his head. He spluttered, his hands flying to his jaw as blood pooled in his mouth.

_The tracker_. Dick spat blood and spittle at the robot's feet as it turned from him, disappearing from the room. He ran his tongue over the spot where his molar had been, irritated that he hadn't seen that coming. He thought back to the kidnapping, but he was positive the men who had taken them had been human. Dick winced, spitting a bit more blood onto the floor, and he turned to Jason.

"Jay," he whispered, his jaw throbbing. He shook the boy's shoulder. "Jason, you have to get up."

He wondered how the robot had known that he had a tracker in his tooth. Smart robot. That really irritated him. He licked at his gum, and spat some more blood out. His mouth tasted metallic, and blood was dribbling from his lips, staining his chin.

"Jason," Dick repeated. The drug would be wearing off soon, if it hadn't already. Dick sighed, and he decided to settle back against the wall. The tracker was out, but Dick had no idea if it was broken or not. They would have to wait and see.

He thought about Barbara, and the fear that gleamed in her eyes as he was dragged away. He didn't think it was fear for herself. She was scared because he had been taken, and she couldn't stop it. He recalled the sound of her getting punched, and the amount of blood that one blow had caused. Barbara was not used to taking hits like that, so her body couldn't protect her.

_She's fine_, he thought, pulling his legs to his chest. _Please be fine, Babs, please_…

* * *

Barbara sat sullenly in the police station, a bag of ice resting on her bruised knuckles, and her father kneeled across from her, gently wiping the blood from her mouth. She stared at her lap, her hand throbbing with pain as she lifted the ice to examine the damage. After the car had driven away, leaving the man behind, she had kicked him in the groin and hastily punched him again and again until she was decided he was unconscious, and rolled off him to look for the car. Of course she had known it was gone, but the sinking feeling she had felt when she saw it was true made her want to puke.

"I'm sorry," she repeated for the seventh time since they arrived at the station. Her father had taken to ignoring her now. "If I had just… tried a little harder…"

"Barbara," her father said, pushing the hair from her face and meeting her eyes. She found herself focusing on the details of his face, the pores on his cheeks and the stress lines around his mustache. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Just be thankful they didn't take you too."

"They didn't want me," she hissed, turning her head so she wouldn't have to look at him. His hands fell from her face. "They wanted Dick and Jason, and I practically let them have them!"

"No." Jim Gordon pressed his lips to her temple, and pulled her into a hug. "You tried to save them, and you got hurt while doing so. Don't you see why I don't want you getting involved in crime fighting? It leads to worse than bruised knuckles and bloody lips."

"This is exactly why I should be allowed to help!" she cried against his chest, her body trembling in his arms. She couldn't stand it. She'd felt so weak back there, she could barely hold back her tears of fury and fear. Dick… the way he'd sounded when she'd been slapped. She'd never heard him sound so alarmed, so horrified and panicked, and it broke her heart.

"Commissioner, I'd hate to interrupt, but…" Her father let go of her, standing up straight as an officer escorted Bruce Wayne into the office. Barbara winced at the sight of him. She felt guilty for being here when his sons were not.

He looked distraught, as expected, but beneath that he also had an expression of pure determination. He stepped into the office, nodding to her father, before he took a step toward Barbara. She looked up at him, meeting his brown eyes with tearful blue ones. She quickly blinked them back, her shoulders hunching as she tried to keep herself composed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne," she uttered, jumping to her feet. The ice pack dropped to the ground, and she gritted her teeth. "We should've… I should have noticed Jason was taking too long sooner. I shouldn't have let Dick get taken either, because he… he was right next to me, and then—"

"Barbara," Bruce said gently. She swallowed her words, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "This is not your fault. Don't blame yourself because you couldn't take three grown men. You got one of them, and that itself is an impressive feat."

"Why should that matter when they have Dick and Jason?" Barbara whispered, her shoulders shaking in sadness and rage.

Bruce watched her, his eyes softening. Bruce Wayne had an automatically welcoming air to him, a charismatic presence that followed him wherever he went. Now though, the man looked very human, and very sad. Barbara bit her lip to remind herself that she wasn't allowed to cry until she knew Dick and Jason were safe.

"Because you're still here," Bruce said. "And because of that, we have someone we can interrogate. Right, Commissioner?"

"Yes," her father agreed. "Barbara, can you go wait outside?"

"No," she said stiffly. "I want to know what's going on."

"Barbara." The sharp warning in her father's voice made it very clear that was not going to happen, so she scooped up her ice pack and turned away from him.

"I think we should alert Batman," she mumbled, moving toward the door.

"I'm sure he already knows."

"Not what I meant." She glanced up at Bruce Wayne, and she managed to give him a small smile. "We'll find them, Mr. Wayne."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He smiled back. Barbara could sense that he didn't truly believe it, but she didn't comment. She turned back to her father when she opened the door, her body resting against the frame.

"You know, this is exactly why I should be allowed to have a taser," she informed him. She closed the door before he could retort. She was tired of this fight that she knew she would lose. She was just no match for her father, who plainly refused to allow her take any part in helping the officers.

She walked to one of the windows, ignoring the officers around her, and she crawled onto the sill. A gust of warm air drew her to peer out into the hazy Gotham sky, and she sighed. It was too bright to turn on the Bat Signal, so she was stuck not knowing if her friends were going to come back. She wanted to believe that Batman knew about the kidnapping already, but who was to say he cared? He had so much else to worry about, and she wasn't sure the kidnapping had even made the local news yet.

The fact that she had to sit by and do nothing made her want to tear her hair out. This was not the first time Dick had been kidnapped, but it was the first time it had happened in front of her. She should have been able to help. What was the use of having a black belt in karate if she had been thrown aside like a useless doll at the first sign of a struggle?

She couldn't sit by and wait for news, like a demure little girl with no inkling of what could be happening to Jason Todd and Dick Grayson. She knew the world was harsh. She'd seen Dick Grayson during his darkest days, and she saw him through it still. She didn't want to wait for someone to pat her shoulder and murmur the fate of her friends, be it happy or sad. She wanted to be there when they were found.

If only wishing worked.

* * *

When Jason woke up, he grumbled swears and rubbed his head. When he saw Dick sitting right beside him, he quickly began to apologize, his face melting into an awful, mortified expression. Dick silenced him by pressing his bound hands to the boy's mouth. He'd gotten the restraints loose about three times in the past hour, but every time he left them alone a robot showed up and tightened them again. Dick wasn't sure if they were intimidating so much as really annoying.

"It's okay," Dick whispered, watching as Jason's eyes widened. He'd been expecting something more brutal, to be sure. "I made tons of stupid mistakes that got me kidnapped when I was younger. What matters is that we're both okay, and these guys are likely after money, not info."

"How is that a good thing?" Jason hissed once Dick let his hands fall back.

"Rule number one of getting captured, Jay— if they want information, pray to whatever god you can come up with that they're stupid, and don't cover their tracks. Otherwise you'll be getting a beating."

Jason tugged at his own restraints, glaring at the plastic with a piqued scowl. It seemed that he was trying to understand why anyone would tie someone up with plastic bindings, because it could easily be snapped. Dick had concluded that it saved money, and it was simply convenient. He took to calling these types of people dollar store abductors. Not everyone can be completely competent.

"I can take a beating," Jason muttered.

Dick smiled. He knew it was true, but Jason truly had no idea how horrible it could be to be a hero sometimes. "Never underestimate what people are capable of. Similarly, don't overestimate yourself."

Jason groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. His dark hair curled a little against the pale skin of his forehead, slipping into brown waves that crawled across his scalp. "How long was I out?"

"Uh… about two hours, maybe. Why were you talking to that guy, anyway? You've got more common sense than I do when it comes to street smarts— usually." Dick looked down when Jason flinched. He didn't want to lecture him about not talking to strangers, because of course he already knew that, and Dick knew exactly the kind of tongue lashing he was getting from Bruce later.

"It was stupid," Jason breathed, his tiny frame going tense beside him. "He… I heard him say my mom's name when I was in the bathroom, so I followed him outside. I should have figured out it was a trap."

"Trial and error," Dick said gently. "You'll know next time not to bite the bait."

The boy nodded somberly, fingering his restraints as he took a look around. "Do you know where we are?"

Dick looked around as well. The room smelled of wood and sawdust, the walls covered in thick, rotting boards, and the floor was a resting carpet of layers of dust. The entire room was a dull gray hue, and light streaked through the yawning busted windows, illuminating the dance of particles through the thick air. Dick had deduced what type of building they were in a while ago, mostly going by the haunted feel to the rickety, abandoned place and the smell.

"A sawmill, I think," Dick said, glancing at the ceiling. He could see the rafters, and he wondered if there were bats up there. "Middle of the woods, but there's a city near by. Heard it about ten minutes from here on the drive."

"What city?"

Dick laughed quietly, glancing around the empty room. They were being watched, and he knew it, but they were keeping their distance. He wasn't sure if he appreciated that, or feared it. "Aw, Jay, I'm not that good. If I had to guess, maybe Blüdhaven? From what I saw we were headed in that general direction. Don't quote me on that, though."

"What?" Jason sat up straighter, his eyes flashing wide. "But Blüdhaven is like, an hour away from Gotham!"

"Shh!" Dick hushed, waving his bound hands at the younger boy. Jason simply stared, his icy blue eyes narrowing. "Yeah, I know. That's kind of why I guessed it. Anyway, they'll figure out we're not in Gotham sooner or later. Don't worry."

"How can I not worry?" he hissed, glaring up at Dick. His shoulders were squared, and it was obvious he was growing anxious. His bonds were already loose enough for his hands to slip through, but like Dick, Jason kept them on.

"Because he's going to come," Dick whispered. Jason could only stare, his face relaxing at the words. "Have a little faith, Jason."

"What if he doesn't?" Jason let out a small, shuddering breath through his teeth, his fear emanating from his shaky words. Dick felt the doubt, and the confusion, but he did not let it devour him. Bruce would come. He always did.

"He will," Dick said firmly.

But he didn't. Not for the next hour or so, anyway. The longer they sat, the more antsy Jason got, and Dick had to hold him down when the robot came around to tighten their bonds. A mixture of rage from knowing that the bot had snatched Dick's tracker-tooth, along with his discomfort with the situation caused him to really want to destroy something. Dick wasn't sure how sound the structure of the building was, so he didn't want to chance a fight with something that could blow up.

Jason had calmed by the fourth hour of captivity, just in time for a real human being to appear. He'd loosened his restraints again, as had Dick, and he was wondering why they didn't just bolt. Then he remembered that he was in his civvies, and they had no idea what their situation really was, or how dangerous these people were. Dick warned Jason that they needed to be careful, or else they might get themselves killed.

The man was tall, his body thin beneath a lengthy, moth-bitten coat. He wasn't the type of thug either of them had been expecting, but he was the guy with the gun cocked at them, so it was better not to question. Beneath his mask, he smiled, his lips visible beneath the hard shell.

"Right, boys," he said, his voice gruff. The quality sounded intentional, as if he was trying to mask his normal tone. "We think it's about time we, uh… _warned_ Mr. Wayne about what's gonna happen to the two of you if he doesn't pay up on time."

Dick tensed at his words, and he looked at Jason. It didn't seem to register quite yet what the man meant, because the boy was sneering at the man, his brow furrowed. He decided he would not say anything, and he glared up at the lanky man. Dick could dodge a bullet and knock him out. That would be easy. But if he was too rash, he might get Jason hurt, or his identity revealed. He couldn't have that.

"So, which one?" He moved his gun between them, inching it closer and closer to their foreheads. Dick breathed in, tasting dust and saw residue, the suffocating mass of hot air and humidity beginning to get to him. Jason's sneer turned into a frown, and he glanced at Dick worriedly.

Dick stood up.

And then the man smiled again. His lips stretched beneath the thin material of the mask, and he chuckled. "Ah," he said. "The older one. Thought so."

"No." Dick stopped Jason from scrambling to his feet, pushing the boy back to the ground, and shooting him a look. This wasn't the time to let their emotions get the better of them. He had time to be angry later. For now, he had better stay put and not attack anyone, or else there would be hell to pay. "Put the gun away. You won't need it."

"Just walk." And so Dick did. He did not look back at Jason, because he was afraid of what his face might look like. He didn't want to lose his head, not now, not when he was treading on a thin line between leaving here with all his limbs, and not leaving at all. He told himself to have faith in Bruce, before he took a deep breath and continued to walk. Jason called to him softly from the corner, his voice sounding small in the empty sawmill.

He stepped into a small room, through a door on the left. There were no windows here, so he did not see the glitter of dust as it slowly suffocated him. The room was empty, just as the larger room was, but this one seemed to reek of rot and deterioration. The wood was damp along the corners of the walls and near the low hanging pipes, and mold crept across the crevices. The musty scent of decay held a heavy atmosphere in the tiny, stuffy room.

The gangly man's gun prodded him between the shoulder blades, and Dick made a move on, he saw another man in the room. Just one other. For a moment, his only thought was _where is everyone else_? And then he realized he knew this man. He was careful not to show his alarm as he stared at the masked assassin, taking in the asymmetrical color scheme, and his lack of one eye.

_Now_, Dick thought, _who are you, and what were you doing at Cadmus?_

The gun was lifted from his back, which Dick was thankful for, but then the door slammed shut behind him. He swallowed the urge to call out for Jason, but listened carefully anyway. The man simply watched him, his one dark eye following his every move. It was unsettling, and Dick found himself averting his gaze before he could stop himself.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice level. The man stared at him for a few moments longer, before he gestured for him to move forward.

At first he felt the need to object, and defy him, but then he remembered that Jason was alone in the next room, and Dick had told him not to fight. Of course the boy would, though, if anyone tried to touch him. So Dick decided to oblige, moving carefully toward the assassin. Questions roved through his brain, like what he was doing playing torturer with these thugs, and why he would bother taking such a messy job.

He stopped three feet from him. The room was too hot, and he was tired of playing docile. "What do you want?" he repeated. There was a bite to his tone now, though one would only be able to tell if they truly listened. The man, it seemed, had very good ears, because he made a soft noise, an almost chuckle. Suddenly he lashed out, a dagger in hand, and Dick blinked fast, raising his arms to shield his face. No dodging, he reminded himself.

The knife cut deep into his left hand, the sting of the fresh wound sending a jolt of pain through his arm. He shrunk back, and looked down at the damage. It was a long, thin line of blood that was bubbling over his skin and dripping down his palm. It looked rather insignificant, though it hurt more than he had expected. The more it bled though, the more he wondered.

"This," the assassin said, tipping the dagger's blade as a gesture, "is the only thing I wanted."

"My blood?" Dick's eyebrows raised, and he held his left palm gingerly in his right. "Why would you want…?" He trailed off, sucking a sharp intake of breath through his teeth. The man had pulled a small, compact device from his belt, and it blinked in the dimness of the room. The man held the tip of the dagger over it, and Dick watched, his mouth dry, as a drop, two drops, three… they plopped down onto a sensor, and the room glowed with a pale light. The machine hummed and whirred, processing the blood in careful time.

"You're not why we were kidnapped," Dick stated, trying to keep his nervousness to himself. The man did not look up from the DNA recognizer.

"Very good," he said, his voice tilting on the edge of amusement. The little machine gave a sharp ring, and thrice more it rang until the assassin pocketed the device. "_Robin_. But you don't go by that anymore, do you?"

He didn't know how to respond to that. He stared at him, a little bewildered, and he tried to think about how he possibly could have… _Oh no. My blood. He took it at Cadmus, when he cut me and ran. No, no, no, no, no_…

He must have shown his panic, because the assassin merely raised his hand. "Oh, don't fret," he said. Dick had the distinct feeling that he was being mocked. "I don't mean to let anyone have this information. In fact, I am only here out of… curiosity, you could say?"

"That's great," Dick hissed. He decided not to touch upon the issue of his compromised identity. "But do you mind giving me a clue as to what I'm doing here?"

"I don't think it's in my best interest to tell you." He sounded smug. Dick realized he had no reason to hold back from fighting now, and he that made him feel disgusting. How could he have let a stranger, an _assassin_, find out who he was? How could he have been so careless to let his blood fall into this man's hands in the first place? He glared at the man, closing his left hand into a fist to staunch the bleeding. He snapped the plastic restraints, letting them fall to the ground.

"If you want a fight, I'll give you one," said the man. "But I do need to do the job I was paid for." His words only caused Dick to hunch into a more defensive position, not entirely sure what he was going to do. He had no weapons, no protection, nothing but the clothes on his back, his acrobatic skills, and his strength. "Might I remind you that it does not need to be _you_ in here? I have what I want, now I have to send a message. I could easily take that boy…" Dick froze, and he held his breath to listen for Jason's voice behind the door. The silence did nothing to sate his growing fear. "Jason, was it? Your replacement."

"Leave him out of this," Dick snapped, stepped back the moment the man began to move toward him. The thing was, Dick wanted nothing more than to fight him. But he knew he wouldn't win. The last time he had taken the assassin on, he hadn't managed a single hit, and the man had been playing _defensive_ then. If Dick started a fight and lost, what would that mean for Jason?

The assassin did nothing more than stare. Dick took a sharp breath, his body slumping as he realized that he had lost this fight before it even began. He kept his ears open for Jason's voice, but there was nothing but silence in the small, muggy room. He could hear his heart pounding against his ribs, and he looked down at his bloody hand. Jason's safety came first, he decided.

"Fine," Dick said. He glared up at the assassin, making note of his appearance so he could check the Justice League's files later. There had been nothing on him before, but now that he had a good look at him, he could probably scrounge up something from the database. "Send your warning, then."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. He only knew it would be painful, and more than likely cruel. Still, he couldn't allow it to happen to Jason, so he would have to manage. He'd been tortured before, and he reasoned he would be all right. Besides, by sending this 'message' to Bruce, their abductors were likely handing him exactly what he needed to find them.

"Remove your shirt."

He stood, startled for a moment, and he looked down at his sweater, then up at the assassin. "My… oh." He shrugged the sweater off, discomfort creeping at his spine, and he gritted his teeth. "What are you going to do?"

"You're a very inquisitive little bird." The observation was met with a harsh glower, and the man's one eye narrowed. Dick took a deep breath and gathered up the material of his gray tee-shirt, pulling it over his head. He gripped it tightly in his hands, watching his blood seep into the cloth and staining the pale hue. He was beginning to connect the dots when the assassin pulled a clean knife from his waist.

The urge to fight him back was immense, and he could barely contain his disquiet as he was forced to his knees. He let his hands be tied above his head to a pipe, and he continued to glare until he felt the cold bite of the blade against the flesh of his abdomen. Instinctively he twitched, suddenly knowing exactly what type of torture was going to be inflicted upon him.

_I won't scream_, he told himself, clenching his teeth as the knife began to peel his skin away from the muscle around his stomach. The sound of the flesh tearing, and the pain that spiked throughout his body caused bile to rise in his throat. _I won't._

It was only half a lie.

* * *

_Long chapter._

_Oh, I have some explaining to do with this one. Okay, so first of all, I was scared out of my mind with writing Deathstroke, because I don't know his personality that well. I don't know very much of what he was like in the comics, so I used what I got from Teen Titans, hence why I put him in here in the first place. I love the idea of him having a creepy fascination with Dick, so that's why I put him here as the torture technician. I could have used a faceless thug, but I didn't because I thought this would be more fun. __Also, in Arrow (you know that show on the CW) Deathstroke was used as a torture technician, and I wanted to try that out._

_I'm pretty sure Deathstroke has a ponytail in Young Justice? Didn't mention it, because I wasn't entirely sure. Anyway, we'll be seeing more of Barbara's point of view next chapter. She's kind of the reason why I put this entire situation into play._

_I'm really nervous about this chapter. I don't know how I did with the kidnapping thing, because I've never had to realistically imagine that kind of situation before? Forgive me if it's really jumbled and weird at this point. Review please?_


	6. Keeping Up Faith

**fall and fail**

**{keeping up faith}**

Barbara tilted her chair back, her phone clasped in her hands as she lazily hacked through the GCPD's security system. So far, no one had noticed, but she blamed that on their preoccupation with the kidnapping case. All around her officers bustled, murmuring the results of the interrogation of the man she had beaten to a pulp a few hours earlier. She'd already heard all of the useful things, and it turned out that none of it was useful at all. The man would barely speak.

Bruce Wayne had left hours ago to go sort out the ransom. No one would tell her how much the kidnappers wanted, and for that she was greatly bitter. What was any sum of money to Bruce Wayne, famous billionaire, when his sons were on the line? The ransom would be paid, she was certain of it. It was just a matter of when. This thought left her jittery, and she nearly slipped up on her steady darting of fingers against the screen of her phone. She would have to get her father to put a better firewall around the security encryptions. They were way too easy for her to crack, and she was a newbie at this.

She jumped, quickly hiding her phone as a knock echoed through the room. She looked around and stood, dropping her phone into her purse as she made her way to the department's door. No one stopped her, and she took that as an open invite to answer. Carefully she turned the knob, peering at the dark silhouette behind the translucent glass.

It was a boy, perhaps her age or a year older, his greasy brown hair falling over his eyes as he glanced around nervously. He looked at her with dark, shifty eyes, and he shoved a package into her arms. She gaped at him, her mind leaping to conclusions about the contents before she could really process the situation.

"That's for Bruce Wayne," the boy rasped, his fingers still gripping the box shakily. Barbara looked down at the cardboard parcel, her eyes widening.

At first she wanted to question why he brought it to the police. And then she realized, her eyes searching his face, that he was scared out of his mind. Going up to Bruce Wayne would have been suicide, so he went to the police instead. She felt a surge of pity for this boy she did not know, and she gripped the package tightly, nodding slowly.

"I'll make sure it gets to him," she said gently. He watched her, his hands falling back to his sides. He looked desperate to say something more, but he didn't. He could only back away and flee, his foot steps echoing in the hallway as he ran.

Barbara closed the door, figuring the boy would be okay if she left him alone. She brought the box to her ear and shook it, listening as it rattled. Well, it didn't sound like a bomb. Still, her father would probably ground her for a month if she opened it without telling him…

She found herself grabbing her purse, shooting glares at any officer who dared to glance at the package. She concluded it would be worth it. After all, she did things all the time that might not be considered 'legal'. Stealing and reading classified case files, for one thing, as well as taking squad cars out for practice driving every now again without permission. She considered taking a gun once, but she felt like that was taking it a little too far. And she had no idea where her dad kept the tasers.

Setting the package on one of the sinks in the women's bathroom, Barbara dug through her purse and produced a safety knife that he grandfather had given to her when she'd been younger. It wasn't sharp enough to seriously harm anyone, but she figured it could cut the tape on the package fine.

She flicked the blade from its crevice and sliced through the tape with one stroke. After a few seconds of waiting (she didn't know what she was expecting to pop out from the box), she set aside the knife and pried open the package. She stared at the contents, her eyebrows furrowing as she reached inside and pulled out a little velvet box. It was about five inches by five inches, and it sat heavily in her palm like it had been weighted.

It did occur to her that she was being incredibly stupid by opening a shady package from a shady kid who probably got it from a shady source. But she didn't care. Maybe if she thought there was an inkling of a chance that her father would let her see the contents of the package if she had given it to him right away, she might have followed her common sense. But since she knew there was no chance of that, she took matters into her own hands. Yeah, she was being dumb, but when did she use her head when it came to her father's rules?

She carefully pushed open the little box, preparing herself for the worst. At first, staring at cushioned inside of the box, she had no idea what she was staring at. She blinked, plucking one of the long, thin white strips from the stained linen, her fingers holding the squishy tendril gingerly between her fingers. It was a feeble, near transparent string that swung lightly from side to side.

_They look like worms_, she thought, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. The girl who looked back was tiny, her face gaunt and her eyes bloodshot, and her red hair was matted. Her yellow tank top was stained red across her chest, splotches of blood from when her lip had split open. She looked at herself, and then the squishy, pale strip, and she nearly dropped the box when it hit her. Nausea crept its way into her stomach, stirring bile and acid as she choked down a cry of shock. _Skin! They flayed him, and put the skin in a box to send to Bruce Wayne to remind him that there's a ransom. They_ flayed _him…_

Barbara snapped the box shut and threw it back into the package. She held the piece of skin in her hand far away from her face and sucked in a few deep breaths, her body reacting strangely to the knowledge that _she was holding Dick's skin_. The back of her neck felt uncomfortably hot, and the rest of her body shuddered with a chill that overtook her. She lurched forward, gripping the cool porcelain sink with one shaking hand, as she swallowed the bile and sick that rose in her throat, threatening to spill from her lips.

For a few minutes she stood like this, until finally her arm began to cramp, and she pushed herself back. She stuck her hand into her purse, closing her eyes and feeling around for a circular object. She found it, and she breathed, drawing it from the bag and snapping it open. The compact had been a Christmas gift, a cute little clock design running across the cover. On the inside, there was nothing but two mirrors. And empty space. Barbara cautiously placed the skin on one side of the mirror, watching it coil like string and smudge against the surface. She stared at it for a little while, taking deep, calming breaths, and then she clapped the compact shut, wiping her fingers on her shorts.

She grabbed the safety knife and slid it back into place, shoving it along with her compact into the purse. She slung the bag over her shoulder and snatched the parcel, spinning around and exiting the bathroom, her hands trembling against the cardboard. She marched through the rows of desks, pushing her way to her father's office. He looked up when she opened the door, trailing off from his sentence. He was bent over a mess of papers, and Barbara saw that he was speaking through an earpiece.

"What is that?" he asked, rising to his feet. His eyes were narrowed as they flitted between Barbara's face and the package.

She pulled the velvet box from the parcel, tossing the cardboard aside and stepping up to her father's desk, setting it down on top of his paperwork. He stared at it for a moment, before he looked at her, his eyes falling on her quaking hands. He picked up the box, his fingers running over the velvet, one side black and one side yellow. He gently flicked the box open, and Barbara watched his face go from cautious, to confused, to shocked, to horrified.

"We need to find them, Dad," Barbara said, her voice coarse and shaky. Her father did not make a sound, though he shook his head slowly, his eyes glimmering with disgust. "It's been almost six hours, and we have nothing!"

"Barbara," her father said quietly. "You need to go home."

Fury bubbled inside her, and she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum, to scream at him until he understood why this mattered so much to her. This was Dick Grayson! He was in very many ways her best friend, and someone had snatched him right in front of her, and now she was being taunted with strips of his _skin_! And he wanted her to leave now, just when she finally had something to investigate?

But Barbara did nothing. She could only glare at her father, tears of rage prickling the corners of her eyes, and she spun away from him. "I'm taking a squad car," she said in a dead tone, slipping a pair of keys from his line of hooks, and she left him to object weakly. She had her license now, and he wanted her to leave, so she saw no problem in doing this.

She already had a plan by the time she reached her father's car, and she slid her phone from her purse, flicking through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for. It wasn't hard, since she was one of the first ones on the list. She got into the car, and waited as the phone dialed, and rung, rung, rung…

"Barbara?" Artemis asked cautiously. "You do realize you're the talk of Gotham right now, right? Congrats, you're a star."

"Artemis, I need your help." Not true. Barbara could do this easily without Artemis, but in all honesty, she just didn't want to be alone right now. She felt too awful, and there was a strange void where Dick usually was, and that vacant ambience caused her to be unsettled.

"Is this about Grayson and Todd?" asked the blonde, sounding a little worried. Barbara could hear her trying to mask it with indifference. "What do you need?"

"Are you doing anything right now?"

"Uh…" Barbara heard Artemis shift, the sound of metal clinking passing through the speaker. "Nope, just playing darts. Are you, um… okay? I mean, like, you're not hurt, right?"

"I'm fine. Can you meet me? Now, if that's okay? I can pick you up."

"In a Gotham City Police car?" Artemis sounded plainly amused. "Again?"

"Well…"

"You know, I swear everyone in my apartment building thinks I'm a delinquent because of you."

"Sorry." Barbara might have quipped at her in response if her brain wasn't so muddled from worry. "Seriously, though, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Wanna fill me in?"

"I will," Barbara promised, ending the call. She needed to get on the road and clear her thoughts. She prided herself in being an exceptionally good driver, considering the fact that she had to deal with the bustling streets of Gotham, and also she didn't have as much experience as she'd like. Still, she made her way to Artemis's apartment without a problem. She found the blonde to be sitting on her stoop, gazing at the car with an expression that was a mixture of amusement and uneasiness.

"Hey," Artemis said, leaning through the window when Barbara rolled it down. She looked worried, his sharp gray eyes flickering over the red head's face. "You did get hurt. Why didn't you say something?"

Barbara chewed on her fat lip and leaned back. The car was still running, and she gestured for Artemis to come in. The girl raised an eyebrow, but obliged, sliding into the passenger's side with ease. Her long blonde hair brushed against the seat, tied tight in its usual ponytail. Artemis shot Barbara a questioning glance, her lips pulling into a frown.

Barbara turned to face her friend. "How do you feel about breaking into the school?" she asked.

Artemis stared at her for a moment, her eyes snapping wide. Then she laughed, clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles, until she saw the deadly serious glare Barbara was giving her. "Wait," Artemis said, "really? You— the commissioner's _daughter_— want my help to commit a felony against our highly prestigious and highly secured school?"

"You don't have to," Barbara said quickly. "I can do it by myself. I just… you won't get into any trouble if we get caught. I'll take all the blame, and say that I blackmailed you into it or something."

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you pull this by yourself," Artemis said darkly. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, but she buried it behind her determination. "Look, I'm not sure why you want to do this, but is it really necessary? Now, of all times?"

"I need access to the microscopes in the lab," Barbara explained, hoping Artemis understood. "They're super high-tech, even compared to the forensics division of the GCPD. The school is closed right now, though. It closes at six in the summer. So I need to break in to get what I need."

Artemis shifted in her seat, her eyes flashing around her neighborhood. She took a deep breath and stared at her apartment complex for a few moments, before she grabbed her seatbelt and draped it across herself. "Drive."

And so she did. She still felt sick from the revelation that Dick and/or Jason had been skinned alive, and she wasn't sure how to tell Artemis about it. Hell, she wasn't even sure she'd be able to find anything by looking at the skin under a microscope. But she had to try. She refused to let herself be plagued by the what ifs and maybes, and she wanted to help. She'd go insane if she didn't.

Barbara gave Artemis a quick overview of what happened earlier in the day, to which the girl looked curious, and a little impressed. "You took down a thug?" she asked, brows raised.

"You sound so surprised," Barbara teased, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I take self-defense lessons, and gymnastics, and karate on top of that. Call me crazy prepared for a situation like today's." It hadn't helped Dick and Jason any, though. That thought made her bitter.

Artemis let out a low whistle. "Okay, so then why do you need a microscope?"

Barbara's bruised knuckles were white against the wheel, gripping it so tightly it hurt. She didn't know what to say, so she jerked her chin at her purse, and waited for Artemis to get the hint. The older girl pulled the purse into her lap, glancing at Barbara uncertainly, before she began to rummage through the contents. Barbara nodded when she withdrew the compact.

"Be careful," Barbara warned as Artemis clicked the mirrors open. She stared at the coiled skin for a moment, before she blanched, snapping the compact shut.

She stared at it a little longer, gripping it tightly in her hands, and she took a deep breath. "That… is this…?"

"Skin," confirmed the red head. She kept her eyes on the road, carefully roving the streets for people who might decide to jaywalk while she drove. Her greatest fear while driving was accidentally hitting someone. "I don't know whose— I'd guess Dick's, though. I don't think he'd let them touch Jason."

Artemis shoved the compact back into the purse, her lips twisting into a snarl. She said nothing, but Barbara heard her fingernails scratching against the leather seat as she tried to keep her fury to herself. Barbara knew it was just her way of coping with the fact that one of her friends was probably in a great deal of pain right now, and she had no way to stop it. She felt similarly, and perhaps that was why she had chosen Artemis to accompany her. She couldn't very well bring Bette Kane along.

"Dick will be okay," Barbara murmured after a few minutes of silence. Artemis glared at her, the muscle in her jaw jumping as she clenched her teeth. "He's stronger than you think."

"What kind of monster," Artemis spat, "carves the skin off a fifteen year old?"

Barbara didn't know. The kind that resided in Gotham, she suspected. There was a spot in Arkham for those types of people, but she could only sigh and shake her head. The world around her glowed a soft yellow as the sun began its slow decent into the west. It gleamed against the windows of skyscrapers, clawing its way through the fog and haze of Gotham's sky, and the glare of light flushed the dirty city in a fiery shade.

"I feel useless," Artemis hissed.

"Me too." Barbara pulled up beside the gates of Gotham Academy, her body sinking into her seat as she stared at the looming building of her school. "That's why I'm doing this. I… if I don't, then I'll just feel like I'm letting Dick down."

Artemis nodded vacantly, her head bobbing for a few seconds as she lost herself in her thoughts. For a while Artemis had ignored Dick Grayson, who had made many attempts to try and befriend her throughout Freshman year. Eventually, after some math tutoring and a hostage situation, Artemis Crock began joining them at lunch. She explained that though she thought Dick was an obnoxious brat, he wasn't quite as annoying as she had initially thought. Dick had taken this as if she'd proclaimed love for him, and thought of it as a great accomplishment.

"Do you think you can find him? From a piece of skin?" She sounded doubtful, and Barbara couldn't blame her. Honestly, she didn't know if she would be able to do it. There were too many variables, and she was not prepared for this type of situation. She had no idea if she'd be able to identify anything on the skin if she found something, because she had no chance to read up on biology previous to this point. She was going to work off what information she had, which was very little in the grand scheme of things.

"I'm going to try," Barbara said. "I won't fail. I _can't_ fail."

Artemis's eyes dropped to her hands, her body stiffening at her words. She opened her door, stepping out before Barbara had shut off the ignition. This gave Barbara the distinct feeling that something else was bothering Artemis. It wasn't like her to get so worked up. Quickly she gathered her purse and dropped the keys into it, pulling out her phone as she opened the door. Artemis was staring at the iron wrought gate, her head cocked to the side. Barbara stopped beside her, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

"You know," Artemis said casually, "I feel like I should be more excited about this. It's not every day you get to break into your fabulously rich school."

Barbara was already on her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she tried to recall exactly what Dick had told her about security systems. There were traps, like trip wires, that could immediately shut down the entire system and send the server into lock down. If that happened, she had no chance of getting into the building without alerting someone.

"Maybe it's the circumstances?" Barbara hummed, her eyes flickering over the numbers that flooded her screen. Okay, she was in, now she had to… oh, what was it? That stupid override code! The police department's system didn't… oh!

"Um, hey, shouldn't we be scaling this thing…? I'm sure whoever you're texting can wait."

Barbara smiled, her fingers still gliding away at the screen of her phone. Vaguely she wondered why Dick had never taught her how to hack into security systems before— why he'd never mentioned his talent for hacking in the first place. But she figured he probably hadn't thought to mention it, on account of her disinterest in that sort of thing. She never had a need to hack anything until now.

"I'm hacking into the security cameras," she explained, not looking up from the screen. "I'm looping the footage right now so we can get in without anyone seeing."

"What?" Artemis asked flatly. Barbara couldn't spare a glance at her, but she found herself grinning with pride. "Oh my god, you're like a girl version of him…"

"Dick?" She wasn't surprised. After all, she and Dick competed over everything they did. They shared most of the same interests, and sometimes he would even spar with her. He wasn't half bad, considering he admitted to never taking martial arts classes.

"What? Grayson?" Artemis snorted. "Yeah, no. Never mind. And for the record, you're nothing like him. Pride yourself in that fact, Barb."

"Actually," Barbara said, "Dick and I are… well, we're into all the same things. That's why we argue all the time, I think. I keep trying to prove I'm better than him, but he's always one step ahead of me." Carefully, Barbara finished looping all the security cameras, and she took a deep breath. Had it worked? Had Dick's micro lessons in computer hacking paid off? She looked up at Artemis and smiled brightly, waving her phone. "Done," she announced, dropping her phone into her purse.

"I didn't know you were a hacker," Artemis said, smirking at her friend. Barbara shrugged.

"I'm not," she laughed, sticking her purse through the bars of the gate, dropping it cautiously on the other side. "Well, not really. Yet. I'm still learning. Dick actually taught me how to do this security cracking thing. Like I said, we're into the same stuff." Albeit, he'd explained it rather hastily, and refused to repeat himself afterward, but she had gotten the hang of it eventually.

"Dick Grayson taught you…?" Artemis sounded suddenly very confused and unsure. Barbara nodded, grabbing one of the iron bars above her head, and pushing herself from the ground, carefully aligning her feet with the intersecting bars in the gate. She paused when she hit the top, realizing she hadn't even bothered to ask Artemis if she was okay with this. She wasn't Dick, she reminded herself.

To her surprise, Artemis was right beside her, her body nimbly gliding up the tall iron gate without so much as a small sign of struggle. "Ever thought about joining the gymnastics team?" Barbara asked, her eyebrows shooting up. Artemis winked, and shrugged.

"Nah," Artemis said, swinging her leg over the gate and dropping to the ground. Barbara followed, feeling the brief rush of adrenaline as the concrete came up to meet her fast, and she tucked herself carefully so that all of her weight would not fall on her legs. She grabbed her bag and turned to Artemis.

"You should come to a practice anyway," Barbara suggested. "Maybe you could even cut Dick's ego down a size."

"I'll think about it, red," Artemis chuckled. They then began their trek up to the school, following the pale, twisting pathway up to the incredibly large building.

* * *

Thousands of pale eyes glinted in the darkness, watching him with piercing, obtrusive gazes. He felt as if he were pinned beneath them, each stare stabbing him clear in the points of pressure that ran throughout his tiny body. The sky was littered with stars, but they did not glow white, no, they were all red and burning through the faint outline of where the tent's ceiling should have ended.

He felt lighter than air as he spun, waving enthusiastically to the crowd, and beside him he felt the presence of his mother and father, their hands on his shoulders as they smiled and waved as well. The crooning of music, the steady chaotic beat of a carnival tune rang in his ears as he turned, and turned, and turned. He was searching the audience, his stomach dropping when he realized.

_He's not here_, he thought numbly as his parents led him up to their platform. The world lit up around him, and the stars screamed overhead, trailing across the canopy of darkness like wailing, fiery tears. He took his mother's hand and squeezed it tightly, but she did not sense his disappointment. She only grinned, and waved some more, her laughter falling against the rhythm of the music around them.

John took him by the other hand, smirking down at him. His dark blue eyes, identical to Dick's, danced in the glimmer of the bloody stars, and his grin was white as bone. He laughed loudly as Haly announced them, the ringmaster's voice drowning in a sea of thunderous music and screeching stars and booming laughter. Dum, dum, goes the drums, snap, snap, goes the back…

"Don't," Dick gasped suddenly, dragging John back as he moved to follow his mother and father out into the air. When Dick looked around, he saw nothing but vacant eyes in expressionless faces. The stars were falling all around him, darting across the platform and weaving around his aunt and uncle as they flipped and spun and flung themselves through the sky. "Please don't do the finale, John, you'll die!"

John choked on his own laughter, his head falling back as he winked at the tiny boy who clung to him so desperately. Dick stared at him, watching his cocky smirk grow into an arrogant grin, and suddenly his cousin shrank, his face morphing and twisting, a flash of red crashing into them both and blinding them.

"Dickie," Jason laughed when the light faded, tugging his hand away, "where's your sense of fun? Come on, we can do this easy!"

"No, we can't!" Dick cried, his voice unable to carry itself above the cacophony of music, and screams, and a distant maniacal laugh. He held on tighter to Jason's hand, the feel of the leather against his palm a great comfort to his frantic state. "Stop it! Jay, stop being reckless! Please sit back down. Jay?"

Jason tore his hand from Dick's, and his eyes narrowed behind the whites of his domino mask. He shook his head and spun around, leaping from the platform and clasping a bar as it came flying toward him. He moved like a bird, and his cape billowed behind him, red feathers flaking from his skin as he moved fluidly through the air. Dick began to scream, but the stars around him outmatched him, their constant shrieking deafening him, and the glare of them made him squeeze his eyes shut.

"Come back," Dick murmured, falling to his knees. He reached over the edge of the platform as his family spun in the air, and he heard a grating sound that carried far above the chaotic carnival tune and the wails of falling stars. Dick screamed, lurching forward as the cords snapped all around him, and one by one they fell. They screamed too, their eyes filling with terror and shock as they plummeted down, down, spiraling into a black abyss below.

"No!" Dick gasped, his body sliding forward. The music reached its peak, screeching in his ears as a clown's laughter sang and rasped, and stars fell like rain, raking his skin as he reached toward the darkness. Everything around him, the maelstrom of noise and the heavy beating of blazing stars as they fell and fell and were swallowed by the gaping darkness that swelled around him, rising up like a flood, and he gasped and cried, his little frame tipping over the edge of the platform—

"_Dick_!"

Jason's voice jolted him from his dream, and he let a soft cry of shock and pain fall from his lips. He forced his eyes open, and he groaned as the pale yellow glare of the setting sun fell against his vision, leaving him blinded for a few moments. Dick heaved a breath of air, only to choke on the acrid taste of sawdust mixed with the metallic tang of blood. His body ached all over, but the brunt of it came from a searing series of burning sensations deriving from his stomach.

"Jason…?" Dick mumbled, pressing his fingers against his bundled tee-shirt. The assassin had handed it to him to apply pressure to his bloody stomach, and he held it against the wounds still. Dick reached out, feeling for his companion's arm, and he let out a small sigh of relief. His body relaxed against the callous wooden floor beneath his bare back. "Where did you go? I… I thought…"

"What happened to you?" He sounded angry. Dick sighed, his mind falling back on the memory of the assassin taking his sweet jolly time with peeling the skin from his abdomen. He could still hear the strange ripping noise as his skin was torn from his muscle, slowly and carefully. All the while, Dick could only stare at the man's mask, his body trembling beneath the knife, and every so often he'd choke a scream into a soft cry.

"Nothin' much," Dick said thickly, attempting to push himself into a sitting position. Jason forced his shoulders down when Dick's body began to rack in pain, and he let out a sharp, agonized gasp. "Where did you go?"

"They…" He sounded far off, as if he were across the room instead of right beside him. Dick knew that was just the pain getting to his head. He tried to remember where the assassin had went, but after he had carried Dick back into the main room, and Dick had discovered Jason to be gone, he simply just had not cared. "They took me to my father."

Dick's eyes snapped open, and he stared up at the rafters for a moment, lost in his own surprise. Then it clicked. "He was the one who had you kidnapped," Dick said softly. Jason was peering over him, his eyes wide with worry and fear, but his brows were furrowed in rage as well. "And me, by extension, but they didn't care if I came or not. It was you they wanted."

"I'm sorry," Jason spat, pushing himself away from Dick, and his back slammed against a wall. Dick's eyes widened, and he cried out in objection, shakily pushing himself to his elbows. "I guess I just messed everything up, huh? You'd be fucking fine if I was out on the streets right now, like I should be. It's all my fault, and I know it, and I'm _sorry_." No. He sounded distinctly bitter. Probably toward himself… and maybe his father. Or Bruce…

"This was bound to happen, Jason," Dick said, glaring at the boy. "Look, getting kidnapped? Not a huge deal. In fact, this all _my_ fault."

Jason laughed mirthlessly, matching Dick's glare ten fold. It was rather admirable, but Dick was beginning to worry. He needed to calm down before Batman came, or else he'd say something stupid. "Your fault?" Jason snorted. "Yeah, right. What the hell did you do, mister perfect? Oops, I'm sorry, Bruce, I let a robot break your expensive tracker tooth!"

"It's not broken," Dick growled. He was getting annoyed by Jason's tone. "If it was, Bruce would have found us by now. It emits an automatic homing signal when it's damaged— not the point, though. See, I figured out why these people are so competent. These guys are pretty much your run of the mill Gotham dirt— 'cept for one."

Jason looked confused, and he opened his mouth to argue. "And one smart goon is all your fault? Oh, wait! I've got it, he's your evil clone."

"Hey," Dick grumbled, pressing his hand against his stomach as he dragged himself toward the wall. "Clones… aren't evil, kay? Anyways… what was I saying? No, don't answer that— okay, so what happened was, I caught the eye of this, uh… bad guy, for one reason or another, and he decided he wanted to take a…" He wrinkled his nose, trying to find the words to explain this while not revealing everything to whoever was eavesdropping. "A really creepy interest in me. I'm pretty positive that most of the competence gone into this kidnapping came from him. Including the robot."

"Wow, you special snowflake," Jason deadpanned. "Not even crooks are immune to your charm."

"I try." Dick smiled weakly at the boy, but he simply continued to glare. "What does your dad want?"

"Money." Jason rolled his eyes, his body going stiff as he seemed to recall the unpleasant conversation. "Specifically for me to help him con Bruce into paying the ransom, and then ditching him."

Dick was silent for a little while after that. The glare of the sun began to fade, and he could hear the distant plopping of water against a bucket. Dick took a deep breath. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.

"I told him to go fuck himself." When Dick turned his head to look at the boy, he was smiling a little, his anger still evident, but fading. "I mean, duh. I'd rather be out on the streets again than be in the same room with that son of a bitch for longer than five minutes."

Dick squinted at Jason's face, and saw through the light that trailed through the cracked windows that the boy had not gotten out of being so bold unscathed. The entire left side of his face was turning a faintly sallow color, purplish bruising caressing the line of his cheekbone. Dick took a deep breath, and he tried to push himself up again, but Jason stopped him by snatching the shirt from his abdomen, allowing the hot, dusty air to lash out at his wounds.

"Ouch! Jason, put that back!" Dick winced, turning on his side, but the dusty floor only managed to agitate his searing skin even more, so he found himself laying in a strange sprawled position across the floor. He saw that his entire torso was spattered with blood, though it was mostly just a thin layer that had been spread around via the makeshift bandage. It was all dried up on his skin, cracking against the outline of his ribs.

There was a sinking feeling inside Dick as he realized he'd let Jason get hurt. The entire reasoning behind giving himself to the assassin was specifically so Jason would not be harmed. Still, it was only a bruise, and like Jason had said, he could take a beating. He was strong, and he refused to let anyone believe otherwise.

"What happened?" Jason stared at the three long lacerations on Dick's abdomen, his eyes lingering for a lot longer than what could be considered comfortable. He reached for his shirt, tugging it from Jason's fingers, and he set it down on his stomach. The pressure sent a shudder of pain through him, and Dick gritted his teeth. He wondered if the assassin had specifically chosen his stomach as the inflicted area to prevent him from being able to sit up, or even perform basic movements without severe pain to jolt up his body.

"Uh," Dick said, chuckling a little, "I got a little scratched up? Not very whelming."

"That's not a scratch, Dick," Jason growled, jumping to his feet. Dick's eyes widened, and he gasped, pushing himself painfully onto his knees. His wounds protested, stretching and ripping, and he felt more blood pool against the damp, crimson stained shirt. "I should go kill him."

"Jason," Dick rasped, reaching out to him. "Sit down and shut up."

"No!" Jason's icy blue eyes flashed to Dick's face, and he pointed to his mutilated stomach, his lips twisting into a fearsome snarl. "This is all his fault! He hurt you! He hurt my mom! If it wasn't for him she'd still—!"

"I know," Dick said tenderly, his entire body protesting as he reached a little further, his fingers almost brushing Jason's. The boy could only glare, his entire demeanor becoming dark and threatening. Dick didn't like it at all, but he couldn't say he blamed him. In the back of his mind, he could see himself, beating Tony Zucco senseless before finally Batman pulled him away. Dick had not felt any worse for beating the man nearly to death— he knew he should have felt remorseful, but he could not find it in him. Of course, he had not felt any better either, and now he lived on with a chip in his heart that could not be repaired. Dick knew better than anyone what it was like to thirst for revenge. He also knew it would not sate the growing flame of retribution. "He'll get what's coming to him, Jay, but not this instant. Please sit back down."

"But…" Jason didn't cool down, but he seemed to falter a little. "I can't let him get away with this."

"He won't."

"Right," Jason snapped. "Because Bruce will come, right? News flash, Dick! You just got tortured, and Bruce isn't here. How long until they decide to do it again?"

"Stop thinking like that," Dick murmured, catching Jason's wrist. He felt exhausted, his entire body worn down from the strain of the torture. He'd been through worse, but there was just something about having gaps of skin removed, exposing his muscle to the air that really made him feel weak. "You've never been in this type of situation before, so don't tell me how you think it's going to end up. You're wrong. He'd never abandon us, and he never will. Sit down, Jay, please?"

Jason did sit down, after Dick had faked a spasm and allowed himself to cry. It had freaked Jason out enough to shut him up, and sit him down, and stare at Dick with worry suddenly overcoming any sort of anger that had been there previously. Dick swiped at the tears, and he felt himself slipping into obscurity again, the faint sound of music echoing in his head. Dum, dum, goes the drums.

"Dick?" Jason murmured after a long while of silence. "Do you consider Bruce to be your father?"

Dick hummed softly, his mind swimming in a haze of sleepiness. Who'd have thought he could have found such a nice position to lay on the hard, old wooden floor. "In some ways, he is," Dick said in a groggy voice. Laying on his back made it easier to forget the pain that he was in. "He'll never replace my real dad, but… in a lot of ways, he became my dad anyway. My second dad, I guess…"

Jason sat very still. Then, he slumped, and he leaned his head back, letting it thump against the wall behind him. "I never had a father," Jason whispered. "But… Bruce definitely isn't the worst dad I could ask for."

Dick was smiling as he felt himself falling backwards into the darkness of his mind. "Mm," he mumbled, swatting Jason's leg helplessly as he tried to keep himself from drifting into the abyss. Jason only stared, and Dick's eyes slid closed, sending him back into the chaos of his nightmares.

* * *

_Not quite as eventful as I'd hoped. What happened was I got a little carried away with Barbara's part, and I wasn't able to get as far with it as I wanted to. Whoops. I think next chapter will conclude this little kidnapping thing. By the way, how am I doing with Barbara? _

_This story is going to be longer than I expected. Not super long, but still not ten chapters like I had originally planned. Welp, that's what happens when I write. I try and limit myself but NOPE, I have to drag things out. Oh, I found out when Tim Drake becomes Robin though. Year five, so that's the beginning of 2015. At this point in the story it's summer of 2012, so I can definitely start figuring out the timeline. You don't understand how happy that makes me._

_Review please. =] I know this revolved more around Barbara than it should have. I think my favorite part was writing the nightmare, though. Nightmares are fascinating._


	7. Per Aspera

**fall and fail**

**{per aspera}**

"This isn't working," Artemis said, after half an hour of staring at a piece of skin got them nowhere. Barbara said nothing, but continued to stare into the eyepiece, focusing and refocusing the objective.

There were flecks of something in the very grooves of the skin, but every time she tried to get a better view of dark flake, the magnification decided to frenzy, and the light wouldn't catch the speck through the layer of skin. It was infuriating, and time consuming, and Artemis had no patience for it. Sitting in a lab did nothing, she'd complained. They should be out in Gotham searching.

Barbara did not even touch upon how useless that would be.

"I just can't identify this," Barbara sighed. "I mean, it doesn't look human? It's not part of the skin, so I think it's particles from the surrounding area— I can't tell what it is though."

"Biology," Artemis grunted ruefully, scowling at a model of a skeleton that sat on the corner of the teacher's desk. Barbara sat alone at a black rectangular table, a notebook open beside her with notes on the pieces of skin she'd put under the scope. So far, she was still completely at lost as to where Dick was. But she could draw his skin cells now, if she ever had need to. That didn't make her feel better. "Oh! Hello!"

Barbara looked up from the scope in time to see Artemis slap her forehead, her eyes rolling as she reached into her pocket. She sounded as if she'd had a sudden revelation. Barbara watched as she fiddle with her phone, her gray eyes flicking over the screen. "What is it?" she asked.

"My boyfriend," Artemis sighed, bringing the phone to her ear. "I totally forgot, because he acts like such an idiot. He's a genius when it comes to biology, though."

"And…?" She didn't see how that helped them right now.

"And, I'm going to see if he can scurry his ass over here and help us— Wally!" Artemis smiled a little, and then she frowned. "Slow down, I can't— ugh, swallow, Baywatch, swallow."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. She had no idea Artemis had a boyfriend, but if he by some miracle managed to figure out what she was looking at, she would love them both forever. "He sounds charming," Barbara giggled. Artemis glared at her.

"Okay, stop eating for two minutes," Artemis said, leaning back against the desk. She blinked at the model skeleton beside her, and scowled at it again. "Now listen, I need you to come into Gotham. Like, pronto. How fast do you think you can get here?"

Artemis paused, and Barbara watched as she smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. "I should have seen that one coming," she chuckled. "I'm at Gotham Academy right now… yeah, I know, we broke in. Shut up. Wally— this is an emergency! I need your help with something, okay? Obviously something I'm not capable of doing by my— no. I am not going to even comment on that."

Barbara enjoyed listening to the one side of this conversation. She could already tell a lot about this Wally boy, just from the fluctuations of Artemis's patience. One moment she was speaking very calmly to him, and the next she looked like she wanted to hurl the phone at the wall. They seemed like a lovely couple.

"A friend of mine is missing," Artemis explained. "I need your help to find him." Wally talked for a little while on the other line, and all the while Artemis scowled at the wall, rolling her eyes every so often. "Um, Dick Grayson? Have you not watched the news in the past five hours? I thought it went national already."

Artemis went silent again, and she sat up straighter, her eyes flashing worriedly. "Wally…?" She glanced at Barbara, then pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. "He hung up on me."

"Is he coming?" Barbara asked, peering into the eyepiece again. Her results remained unchanged. She had no idea what she was looking at. She'd never learned this.

"Oh, definitely." Artemis hopped on the desk and shrugged. "I don't know what happened. I'll bother him about it when he gets here, though."

"Where is he from, exactly?" Barbara frowned.

"Eh," Artemis sighed, waving her hand. "Outside Gotham. Shouldn't take him too long. He's pretty fast when he wants to be."

"I hope you're right," Barbara murmured. "It's getting dark." She wanted to light the Bat Signal above anything else.

"He'll get here," Artemis promised.

He did. After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, they heard rustling in the hall, and Artemis leapt to her feet. She swung the door open, and Barbara looked up to see a disgruntled looking redhead standing in the doorway, his green eyes wide, and his hair windswept into a thousand different directions. Barbara could hear his breath rattle, though it did not seem so much out of exhaustion than of panic, and the boy winced a little, shifting on his feet.

"Wally, what—" Artemis looked down, and she jumped back, her mouth dropping open. "Where are your _shoes_?"

Barbara jumped to her feet, moving around the table to get a better look at Wally. He was probably around Artemis's age, seventeen, with a faintly freckled face, and a skinny frame. He had an athletic build, but a lean body, and Barbara could tell was a runner. She just got that distinct vibe. Then she looked at his feet. Her eyes widened in horror, and she objected as the boy stepped forward, leaving a bloody footprint behind.

His feet were a mix of black and red, dirt and blood blending together against his skin. She had no idea how it had happened, but staring at them made her feel sick. She'd seen enough mutilation today, thanks, she could live without seeing any more mangled body parts. She winced at the sight of skin hanging around the soles of his feet as he hissed and collapsed onto a stool.

"Ooh," Wally muttered, "ow. Uncle Barry's gonna kill me."

"Your uncle has to wait in line," Artemis spat, bending on one knee to catch a better look at his feet. "Oh my god, what did you _do_? There isn't any skin left!"

"I think you're over exaggerating," Wally laughed, gripping the table as he tried to steady himself.

"I think I'm going to knock some teeth out of your mouth if you don't tell me what the hell happened to you."

Wally kicked his blood feet weakly, and he looked down. "I ran," he admitted sheepishly. Artemis's eyes grew in shock, and he quickly went on. "Not the whole way! That'd take hours, Arty, I'm not that fast… but I kind of got carried away, and forgot to wear the right shoes… they ripped right off way back, at least thirty blocks… Don't look at me like that."

Both Artemis and Barbara were staring at the boy incredulously as he rocked back and forth, careful not to put too much pressure on his bleeding feet. Barbara spun around, moving quickly behind the teacher's desk and pulling open the drawers. Artemis was still staring at him when she found the first aid kit hidden beneath a packet of lab safety pamphlets.

"Why the hell didn't you pay attention to your shoes?" Artemis snapped, snatching the first aid kit from Barbara's hands. "Are you _insane_? I know I said it's an emergency, but I didn't think you were going to go and friggin' destroy your feet trying to get here!"

"How did that even happen?" Barbara asked, her eyes widening as Artemis unrolled a thick, cottony bandage, wrapping the white fabric thrice around her knuckles. She looked at the soles of his feet, red and glistening from the lack of skin, shreds of flesh hanging limply around the limb. "Thirty blocks in thirty minutes? How did you make it here, with your feet like this? Didn't it… hurt?"

"I didn't notice until I had to climb the gate," Wally said, smiling nervously. Artemis was glaring at both of them, her eyes shifting anxiously. "Look, I'm fine. This used to happen all the time when I was younger. Anyway, lemme see what I can do. What was it you wanted me to do, again?"

Barbara wanted to ask about how he could have ran so far, so fast, without passing out. She wanted to know how it was possibly that he could have bloodied his feet so badly, even with the fact that he was barefooted. A few scratches, maybe, but the entirety of the bottom of his feet skinned? She didn't see how that could be possible. But she said nothing, keeping her unease to herself. Strange things happened in Gotham all the time. Why should she care about this anomaly of Wally's skinned feet?

"I have a slide of… well, I think it's Dick's skin," Barbara said as Artemis sprayed his bloody feet with disinfectant. He yelped, but his eyes were on Barbara, and they were wide with fear. He looked suddenly very familiar, striking a cord within her memory. She stared at him, racking her mind for the place where she had seen his face before— never directly, she was sure, but she had the hazy recognition of this boy's bold green eyes. She was certain they had been bigger, and happier, and also frozen in youth.

"Skin...?" He sounded as if he wanted to say more, but he simply looked away, shrugging. "Okay, I'll look at it. So, we're in agreement that we're not telling my uncle about this, right? 'Cause he might bench me for a few days, and then I wouldn't get to see you, babe…" He smiled up at Artemis goofily, but she simply glowered, and tightened the bandage, causing him to hiss through his teeth.

"Maybe if you weren't so stupid, you'd have remembered to change your shoes, and this wouldn't have happened."

"I panicked!" Wally cried defensively, pushing himself to his feet. Artemis attempted to keep him down, but he was already limping toward the microscope, wincing a little as he went. Barbara could only watch him, squinting at his face as she berated herself to remember where she'd seen him before. "So, what happened with this skin stuff?"

"The guys who kidnapped Grayson sent this back," Artemis said, gesturing to the rest of the strip of skin, which Barbara had placed in a petri dish. Wally glanced at it, and he quickly looked away, hobbling up to the microscope and plopping down onto the stool. "Wally, why did you…?"

"What am I looking for?" Wally asked, looking up at Barbara. She blinked at him, and moved quickly toward him, swiveling the eyepiece toward her to get a proper look at slide. She saw that a speck was still enlarged, and she turned the eyepiece back toward him.

"If you can identify this, that'd be great," she said, taking a step back. "I'm really sorry you had to, um… run here. I just can't figure out what this is."

Wally peered into the eyepiece, his one visible eye flicking as he examined the slide. Artemis sat down beside him, dropping the first aid kit on the table, and watching Wally suspiciously. Barbara was suspicious as well, but she didn't want to show it. She was too busy trying to figure out where she'd seen Wally before. She realized she had not introduced herself to him, and found herself standing awkwardly as a silence went onward. She turned toward the window, watching as the smoggy Gotham sky turned darker and darker, the distant pink glow of the sunset drowning beneath the depths of the black night.

"This is wood," Wally said suddenly, pushing himself away from the microscope. Barbara turned to stare at him, and she bit her lip. Wood… suddenly, she recalled sitting cross-legged on Dick's bed, half listening to him babble about some math thing that she only sort of understood at the time. They had been young then, and she remembered leaning over his bulky, ebony wooden nightstand, and grasping a tiny picture frame by its corners.

"_Who's this?"_ she'd asked, pointing to the gangly boy beside Dick in the photograph. Dick had merely glanced at the photo, and laughed.

"_Oh, he's a friend of mine…" _Dick had shrugged, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Wally West," she said suddenly, staring at him blankly. He looked at her, and he laughed a little, opening his mouth to reply. She didn't let him. "Dick has a picture of you in his room."

Artemis looked at Wally sharply, her gaze distinctly questioning as Barbara watched Wally's eyes widen in surprise. He seemed to shrug it off though, and he smiled. "We're friends," he said slowly, glancing at Artemis. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at him for a long time, before her mouth dropped open. "Anyways, this is sawdust. Like, a lost of sawdust. So I'm thinking this was dropped into some… I dunno. Oh! Maybe it was pulled off in a sawmill?" He turned to Artemis. "Is there a sawmill anywhere near here?"

Barbara pulled out her phone to check, when she heard Artemis growl under her breath. "No way," she said, her voice low. She looked to Barbara, then to her phone, and her eyes snapped wide. "Shit! That… that little _troll_!"

"Uh oh," Wally muttered, scooting away from Artemis as she looked down at him, rising to her feet. "Okay, okay, look, I can explain."

"You knew!" she hissed, reaching out, her fingers flexing for a moment, as if she wanted to grab him and shake him. Barbara stared, before continuing with her search. "Wait… shit, she doesn't know, does she?"

Wally glanced at Barbara, and she convinced herself to not look up, despite her bubbling curiosity. "Nope, so, uh… let's talk about this later, 'kay, babe?"

"Don't 'babe' me." Artemis scowled a little more, but said nothing else on the matter. Barbara bit her lip, her mind getting away from her as she began to assume at what they were talking about.

"There nearest sawmill is about fifty minutes away," Barbara said slowly, her eyes flashing to the windows. It was nearly nightfall, but the Bat Signal had not been lit yet. She expected that her father was busy with the investigation to bother going up to the roof and waiting for Batman to appear. She gritted her teeth at the thought. "Do you think he's there?"

"It's possible," Wally said, rising to his feet. "I can—"

"No," Artemis stated. "You're not going anywhere."

"I'll go," Barbara said, already in the midst of gathering her things. She glanced at Artemis, but she was holding Wally down by his shoulders, her face dark with concern and exasperation. "I need to light up the signal anyway. Do you want me to give you guys a ride?"

"No, you go," Artemis said quickly, her eyes not leaving Wally's. "We'll be fine." Wally looked like he wanted to object, but he took one look at Artemis's face and nodded. His pale face was illuminated by the light of the microscope, the only light on in the room.

"Are you sure?" Barbara was conflicted about leaving her friend alone in the school with an injured boy. But she thought of Dick, and the skin, and how little time she had left… she felt horrible for choosing, but she couldn't help it. It was getting so late, and who was to say that the time limit hadn't already passed? She was scared, and she could not help her own recklessness.

Artemis shook her head and waved her off. "Just go! We've wasted enough time here." Barbara stared at her, backing toward the door slowly. She looked at Wally, and she blurted her apologies, her guilt eating at her as she navigated around the bloody footprints. She had no idea what she was going to do about them, but she couldn't worry about it now.

She ran, shoving the petri dish into her purse, and taking a deep breath as she left her guilt behind. Artemis was smart, and Barbara trusted her. So why did she feel so bad about leaving them behind? Was it her selfish need to be certain of Dick's safety? What about Jason? The skin could easily be his, but she was so convinced it was Dick who was hurt…

After making it back to the squad car, she nearly crashed twice on her way back to the station. That had left her jittery, and unsure of herself as she climbed to the roof, rubbing her arms as the cool summer wind kissed her bare shoulders. She was still wearing her bloodstained tank top, and her waves of red hair licked at her cheeks as she waited. The Bat Signal was alight beside her, big and bright and round, shooting into the sky and resting against the dark clouds. The world around her went on, thriving on crime and despair, and she breathed the thick summer air, staring into the night around her.

She could have easily went to the sawmill near Blüdhaven without contacting Batman. But she didn't trust herself to be correct about Dick's whereabouts, and she needed to contact Gotham's Dark Knight. She had to know if he'd been working the case to find Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, and her faith in heroes depended on it. So she stood on the roof, wondering if her father was aware of her presence or not. It was likely, after all everyone could see the signal. She let the feeling of being atop the station overtake her. It was a lightness that started in her chest and built itself up, shooting to her brain and jolting her into weightlessness. The wind blew at her, threatening to tip her toward the streets below, but she would not let herself get so close. Barbara Gordon waited for seven minutes, high on wind, until a swoop of black startled her out of the revere.

"Barbara," Batman said, his voice a mask of gravel and ice. She spun to face him, her eyes looking him over once. They lingered on his billowing cape, and then at his side. She felt a twinge of disappointment that lasted only a moment.

"Where's Robin?" she asked before she could stop herself. She saw his eyes narrow behind the whites of his cowl, and she bit her tongue to keep herself from flinching.

"With Nightwing." Batman stepped toward her, and she took a deep breath, holding her ground. She wouldn't let him intimidate her, because she knew he was someone beneath that scowl, and cowl, and cold stare. A good person, who had saved her more than once. She couldn't allow one good person to instill any sort of fear in her.

"Nightwing…" she murmured. "He's… new, isn't he?" She internally slapped herself, and remembered why she was here. "Never mind! I wanted to… um…" Barbara reached into her purse and withdrew the petri dish containing the skin, and she held it out to him. He simply stared. "This is the skin of one of Bruce Wayne's wards. The kidnappers sent it to the station a few hours ago."

"You stole it."

She felt herself stiffen at his tone, as he sounded almost _accusing_ beneath the coldness and the grumbles. Did he forget vigilantism was illegal? "There were two other pieces of skin," Barbara told him, looking at her feet as she spoke. "And I wanted to help find Dick. I think I know where he is."

"You think?"

Barbara looked up at him, and she stared straight into his masked eyes and scowled. "I'm not the world's greatest detective," she said. "But that doesn't mean I have to sit back and wait for you to do my father's job. There's sawdust imbedded in the skin, so I looked up the closest sawmill from here— abandoned, in Blüdhaven. I can't be sure if that's where Dick and Jason are, but it's the only lead I'm aware of."

She took a deep breath, her face flushed in embarrassment as she pulled the petri dish back to her, holding it to her chest. She was speaking to Batman this way. She wondered if she would have spoken the same if Robin had been there— probably. Maybe even more boldly. The few times she had met Robin, she'd known him to be a joker, and he had always made the situation feel lighter. She looked away from him, her body tensing as she realized how foolish she sounded.

"I'm aware of their location," Batman said, his voice still low and threatening. Barbara looked up at him. She wasn't surprised. "You were correct in your assumption."

A rush of pride sped through her, allowing her to look up at him with wide eyes, her gaping mouth turning into a smile. He hadn't given her a compliment, or even changed his tone, but his words gave her a great amount of confidence, and sent warmth coursing through her. She'd been right. She made a mental note to thank Artemis and Wally West profusely later.

Batman moved, and suddenly Barbara felt her confidence overpower her, and she scrambled forward. "Wait!" she gasped. "Can I…?"

Her confidence shattered, and she clamped her mouth shut. She stared at him, shocked to find that he had actually paused, and then she watched him abscond into the night. He would find them, she knew. She felt mortified for sounding so stupid. And yet…

She found herself in the squad car again, rifling through the glove compartment. She smiled when she pulled the spare bulletproof vest into her lap, her fingers gliding over the dark Kevlar. Well, it wasn't technically stealing.

* * *

He shifted gradually between the waking world and chaos. He didn't know which he preferred— dreams of screams and laughter and the pulse of night, or the aching quiet that stretched across the stifling sawmill, suffocating him faster than the dry air, and scathing more than his open wounds. He tried to stay awake when he was with Jason, and when he was pulled under, he fought to stay that way. His heart was with his lurid circus, and his mind was with the rancorous boy. He talked very little while conscious, but that was only because his tongue had seemed to swell in his mouth, and his throat was too dry to even attempt to form real words.

His shirt had gone from a pale, grainy gray, to a deep crimson within hours. It was slick against his fingers, but he held it to his stomach still, knowing that if he left the wounds alone in this arid, musty room, they would fester easily. As much as it hurt now, he knew he'd heal fast. If the wounds got infected, he might be bedridden for weeks. He wouldn't be able to deal with that.

If Jason's father had made an appearance, Dick had been asleep through the entire ordeal. He had a feeling Jason had let his tongue loose again, because the last time he'd looked at him, his nose had been swollen and purplish, blood drying against his lips in crimson trails from his nostrils. He had said nothing, and it seemed like he hadn't even noticed Dick had been awake. He simply stared ahead of him, his gaze distant.

It was dark now, though, and Dick could no longer see Jason. He struggled to push himself closer to the soft sound of his breath, and distantly he heard the boy's voice. "Stop squirming, you'll just hurt yourself more."

It wasn't like Dick had been stabbed. He'd been through much worse than a little skin getting peeled off. In theory, this should be nothing to him. But it wasn't. It hurt worse than he could have imagined, a constant sting that turned into a searing ache, and before Dick knew it, he was rendered almost completely immobile. He wanted to hate himself for being so weak, but he couldn't manage it with all his worry. Worry for himself, worry for Jason, worry about Bruce, worry about Barbara. He wondered if he was supposed to have a mission tonight, and he hoped no one on the team noticed his absence. Ever since Jason had taken the identity of Robin, Dick had more time to be with the team. Their gradual acceptance of his new identity was comforting, but it also made him fear…

"Dick, wake up," Jason hissed into the darkness.

Dick shifted, his fingers tightening against the wet fabric of his shirt. He turned his head Jason's way, his body rejecting the movement, and he found himself reaching out into the dark, hoping to find his hand amongst the dim rays of light emanating from the window. A thousand crickets sang into the night, _chit-chitting_ their lively tunes.

"Awake," Dick croaked, hoping to sound a little more cheerful. It couldn't be helped. "Where are you?"

He could almost hear Jason's eyes rolling as he gave a short laugh. "Right next to you, Dickie-boy," Jason said, his voice a strain against the silence. Even the crickets seemed to stop to hear him. "I hear something."

"Oh." Dick listened, but all he heard was ringing in his head, the steady drum of his own heartbeat, and Jason's quiet breathing. "What—?"

He felt Jason's body jerk beside his own as a door slammed open somewhere in the room. Dick tried and failed to sit upright, grasping Jason's arm tightly as he gasped, and collapsed onto his back again. He heard a strangled shout, and frantic shouting followed. Gunshots rang through the air, piercing the silence, and Dick could feel Jason's body go rigid beneath his fingers. The sound of his breathing had ceased, and Dick realized he was holding it in.

There was a plea in the man's husky voice as he spoke, a shadow sweeping into the room. "If you want those little fuckers, just take them!" Dick nearly laughed, and he clung to Jason tighter, beaming up at him. He could not see the boy's face, but by the way his body had relaxed, he knew. Dick wondered if he was smiling too.

There was a quiet rustling as Jason jumped to his feet, tearing Dick's hand from his arm. Dick hissed a command for him to sit back down, but Jason did not listen. Dick clutched his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled himself upward, clenching his teeth when he felt the raw skin around his stomach snap, and stretch, and tear open once more. He heard Jason faintly through the haze.

"Did you really think—" Jason's voice was several levels of fury, shaking with power as a meaty _smack_ stirred the dust around them. "—that you… _you_! Deadbeat!" Another _smack_, this one resonating louder through Dick's feverish daze. "That you could possibly get away with this? Do you know Gotham at all, you piss poor—" The next _smack_ was wet, and so loud that it nearly made him flinch. He found himself trying to drag his body forward, but he was too lightheaded, and when he tried to stand he fell. It occurred to him that the assassin might have done more than simply torture him. "—excuse for a human being!"

Dick felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and he looked up, searching the darkness and the vertigo. He gave a shudder, and a soft sigh when he felt the cool fabric of Batman's cape pool around him. He reached up, grasping a fistful of the dark cloth as he was lifted into his surrogate father's arms, his shirt sliding to the ground, and slapping, sodden with blood, against the floor.

"I'm sorry," he found himself murmuring into Batman's shoulder. He felt very small, as if he were nine again, and he'd only just made his first mistake as Robin. His body melted into Batman's arms, and he could here his own rattling breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in the scent of Kevlar and sweat. A brief flicker of a thought passed his mind, that perhaps he was too old to react to Batman's rescue this way. But whatever drug that rested in his system prevented him from caring, and he was so thankful for it. There was no better feeling than the relief of Batman's care.

Jason's shouts grew louder, and the dimness around him broke when he squinted into the darkness, and saw the boy's silhouette as he bent over the whimpering form of whom Dick could only surmise was his father. Dick opened his mouth to speak, to rebuke him, but he found he had no voice. He only stared, watching the black form of his little brother as it bent forward, fists flying, and every smack was met with a scream of fury, and a murmured apology.

The thing that surprised Dick the most was that Batman only watched. And suddenly he was reminded of Tony Zucco, who made his blood boil just at the taste of his name on his tongue, and the way Batman had stood back and watched while Robin had throttled him bloody. After a time, the Dark Knight had pulled his bird back, and clutched his shoulders, staring into his masked eyes. No words were spoken, but they shared the same thought, a revelation. No amount of retribution would erase the smear of death that taints you until you fall. Blood for blood did nothing but swallow you up in a sea of red and terror, and that was not the way of the Bat. So, maybe it would never stop hurting, but at the very least it would get better. And Dick Grayson had let him go.

Batman was an entity. His morals, his actions, his very words— they were nothing if not a gleam of hope for people like Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Jason Todd. When the blood spilt, there was no way to wash it away, and when a person was gone, they were gone. Jason needed to learn that for himself. Dick still struggled with the thought of it, and he would admit to still harboring some degree of homicidal urges toward Tony Zucco. But he had been brought to a place where he could see how painfully dark everything would become if he gave into that thirsting, angry little boy.

Jason had slipped from his lecture to a wordless string of screams, each one accompanied by heavy whacks. It was only when the a crunch was heard among the din that Batman stepped up behind him, staring Jason down until he could feel the glower, and he turned, his face half hidden by shadows. Blood was streaked across his cheeks and lips, and he looked half mad with rage and pain, tears brimming in his cold eyes.

"Jason," Dick said gently. Jason's eyes never left Batman, but at the sound of Dick's voice his body seemed to slump. "It's okay now. Let's go home."

His fist was still raised, shaky and red and clenched. He look crazed, but that might have just been the blood, wet and crusting, smeared across his youthful face. Hesitantly, Jason dropped his arm to his side, his mouth parting, as if he had something more to say. But he said nothing. He merely stood up, looking straight at Batman, and he turned away and walked through the open door.

After a few moments, Batman followed him. He still held Dick tightly to his chest, not quite willing to loosen his grip on the boy. Dick had no need to care, though, and the longer Batman held him, the stronger he felt. When his face met open air, he gasped in as much of it as possible, the taste of summer beating away the hot, acrid air inside the sawmill. He felt a chill as a slight breeze slid through the trees around them, licking at his wounds. The night was quiet, all except for the rhythmic sighs of crickets, and the gentle rustle of leaves.

Dick was well on his way to falling asleep again, hoping for sweeter dreams than those that have passed, when Batman's guttural voice spooked him into lucidity.

"Barbara," he said. There was no emotion in his tone to suggest that he was shocked, or disappointed, or welcoming. He simply said her name, and with that Dick's eyes snapped open, and his head lolled to the side.

He saw her hair first, as it glowed against the moonlight, a muted red in the darkness. He noticed that she was wearing a dark police vest, and that was a little startling. Then he realized that it was smart of her to do so as a necessary precaution. Her face was illuminated, and her smile was slipping as she seemed to catch sight of Dick's bloody body. Her blue eyes went so round, he thought they would pop out of her head, and she pushed off from the GCPD car she'd been leaning on. Jason was watching her sullenly from the shadows.

"Dick, are you…?" She reached out to him, but faltered, and when she did, Batman defensively pulled Dick away from her. Dick smiled at her, feeling as though it might look sort of loopy. He felt out of whack, if he were to be honest.

"Fine," he said, giving a one armed shrug. "Kinda… tired. What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Barbara said, her eyes never leaving his. He was grateful for that. "Don't act like you wouldn't do the same for me."

He laughed a little, guiltily, and with that he found himself loosening his grip on Batman. "Batman handled it," Dick said. "But thanks, Babs."

At that, Barbara looked up at Batman, her face becoming suddenly stoic. It was rather odd to see, since he was so accustomed to seeing her playful. "I can take him to a hospital in Blüdhaven," she said, her eyes flashing to Jason's. He was frowning at her from the shadows, but creeping closer to the squad car. "The nearest one from here is about twelve minutes."

Dick felt Batman's fingers tighten around him. It was a comfort, and warmth tickled his chest as he stared at Barbara. The thing was, Batman would not be able to avoid this without arousing suspicion— and since Barbara was such a good friend of his, they needed to be careful with how much she knew. Limiting suspicion was best. Bruce knew that.

It still felt strange though, when Barbara held her arms out, and he felt his body being transferred from the safety of Batman's strong hold, to Barbara's skinny arms. Initially he thought she would drop him. After all, he was bigger than her. He felt awkward in her arms, too tall for her to really grip him properly, but she held him without a hint of strain. Dick was impressed, and he smiled at her, his eyes falling on her lips, which were swollen, and the upper one was split. He tried not to let his eyes linger, and winced in pain as she shifted her grip on him. He focused instead on the scent of her hair, a faintly saccharine odor. Distantly, he thought she smelled like vanilla.

"Well, this is cozy," he murmured in her ear. He was very pleased with himself when he felt her skin flare with heat, and she glared down at him with such fervor, he thought she was going to throw him to the ground. She looked back at Batman, taking a step back toward the car. Jason had already opened the back door, and he was watching them with shifting eyes.

"My dad will be here in ten minutes," she said, carefully resting Dick across the back seat of the squad car. He wouldn't allow her to see just how much pain he was in, so he smiled his thanks, and shared one last look with Batman. They would see each other at home, but Dick was nervous leaving him. His body wanted nothing more than to be carried home, not to a hospital. He hated hospitals.

"I will be long gone," Batman informed her. It was true. He'd be changing back to Bruce Wayne, preparing to take his sons home.

"I figured," Barbara replied. "That's why I made sure to call him at least twenty minutes after you left. The police would have made this situation worse by making their presence known."

Very true. He smiled at the ceiling of the squad car, letting the softness of the seats become a true relief. After laying across the rough wooden floor of the sawmill, he appreciated the seats as if they were a featherbed. He took a deep breath, tasting blood and dust and summer, and somehow that gave him the will to stay awake. He felt the drugs that flowed within him slow his thought process, but he would not let himself be any weaker tonight. He'd stay conscious until someone jabbed a needle in his arm and forced him to swim back into the bouncing dreams of fitful nights and happy screams and terrible laughter.

He barely registered that the car was moving until he heard the siren. He wanted to laugh, and tease Barbara for taking a police car, but he was too dazed to have a real coherent thought process. He had lost a lot of blood, and the drug did nothing to numb the pain in his abdomen. He saw stars dance across his vision, and he sighed, trying to keep his mind clear as darkness crept up upon him, gnawing at his cloudy thoughts.

"You know," he heard Jason say, "this really isn't how I expected my first trip in a police car to go."

The sound of Barbara's soft, disbelieving laughter lulled him to sleep.

* * *

_There is something about Dick falling asleep that is pure chapter ending material. _

_Sooo. Yeah. Fun chapter. Oh, I can explain what happened with Wally. See, once he heard that it was Dick who'd been kidnapped, he was like AW SHIT, MY BFF IS IN TROUBLE. And thus he neglected to change into shoes that would be able to withstand his speed. He didn't run from Central to Gotham, though, because that would take like two hours. He ran to a zeta tube and hitched a ride to Gotham that way. He still had to run a lot, though._

_The image of Wally with bloody feet is really appealing to me. I don't know why. Maybe because I think it's perfectly realistic for this to happen to him? Hmm._

_Oh, and Artemis figured it out. I feel like she wouldn't have if Barbara hadn't brought up Dick's hacking skills though. _

_Review, please? =]_


	8. Helpless to Them

**fall and fail**

**{helpless to them}**

Every time he woke up, there was a new person at his bedside. First it was Bruce. It was soon after Dick had awoken to find himself in _scrubs_, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic and sick people hitting his nostrils before he could process the numb feeling that possessed him. He found himself staring at the ceiling for a long time, his mouth parting as he tried to recall what had happened to him. He couldn't have gotten hurt on duty— he'd be in the Cave's infirmary, not in a hospital. So… civvies? Yeah, probably…

"Bruce?" he murmured, squinting through light that glared against the man's face, obscuring it for a few moments. Dick let out a little breath when he saw his surrogate father's face, and he relaxed against the stiff hospital mattress.

Bruce's expression shifted, and Dick saw him smile slightly in reassurance. "Yes, Dick," Bruce said gently. "I'm right here."

Dick found himself nodding, his body weak and heavy from the drugs being pumped into his system, and he sighed, pushing himself into a sitting position. He saw Bruce's arm twitch, but he did not stop him, and his brown eyes softened when Dick looked around the room worriedly.

"Where's Jason?" he asked, his throat raw. His voice slid like broken glass against his tongue. "Is he—?"

"He's sleeping," Bruce said. Dick stared at him, and he felt relief sag against his body, pushing him back against the cot. He found himself smiling, his eyes fluttering closed.

"That's good," he said softly. "He needs it."

"Yes," Bruce agreed. Dick could hear how tired he was, how strained his voice had became as he sat, and there was a stretch of silence between them. It wasn't anything awkward, or sad, but rather a mutual acceptance of their bond. Bruce wasn't Dick's father, but he came close enough to fitting the bill. He was not affectionate by nature, but there was something about Dick Grayson that had softened the man's heart. "You do too."

"Aw," Dick whined, cracking an eye open. "Bruce, I slept like, half my life away the past few hours. If anyone needs sleep, it's you."

Of course he wouldn't, though, because he was Batman, and he thrived on nothing but the taste of justice and the safety of his city. But Dick was groggy, and full of morphine, so he let himself get dragged under again. The sharp odor of disinfectant blended with the memory of the muggy sawmill, and his mouth tasted like bleach and dust and blood.

He slept anyway.

When he woke again, Bruce was gone, and light was streaming in through the broad window to the left of his cot. Vaguely, he remembered being slightly conscious when the nurses came to change his bandages, but he couldn't tell if that had been a dream or not. The memory was too hazy. He felt better, though. Clearer minded, at the very least, and that was something. He could feel the shallow lacerations sting mildly, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. The painkillers were doing their job.

When he peered through the startling morning rays, he smiled when he saw that they had caught against a visitor. The light danced against her hair, setting it afire, and the curling flames moved about her face as she leaned forward, her eyebrows knitting worriedly, and her eyes were big and round and blue.

"Babs," Dick greeted. He winced, his hoarse voice tearing from his throat. He needed something to drink. Barbara stood up from a chair, her face glowing against the brightness of the summer sun. She was smiling at him.

"I thought you were going to sleep all day," she teased. Dick laughed weakly in response.

"How could I? It's so beautiful outside!" Dick gestured to the window, to the only partly foggy streets of Blüdhaven. Barbara smiled wider, and she gripped his bedside, her eyes flickering worriedly to his stomach. "Hey, Babs, where's Jason?"

"Hey left with Bruce a few hours ago." Barbara bit her bottom lip, chewing on it pensively. "They said it was an emergency, or else they wouldn't have left you. My dad's gone too, 'cause Arkham was broken into last night."

Dick bolted straight up, surprise gripping him. "Arkham?" Oh, this couldn't be good. It was Joker or Two-Face, most likely. Dick was leaning toward the Joker, since he hadn't made any real escape attempts in awhile. Not since what happened with that psychiatrist…

"I heard my dad talking about it." Barbara looked down at him, her eyes curious. "The GCPD thinks your kidnapping was a diversion."

"It depends on who got sprung," Dick muttered, falling back onto his pillow. Barbara glared at him for that.

"I don't know," she said, sighing softly. "I don't even know if anyone escaped."

"Maybe someone just wanted info?" Dick offered. He knew villains liked to get other villains to spill with empty promises, but this was Arkham. No one could be bribed into blurting secrets so easily.

"Maybe." Barbara shrugged. "I'll keep you updated."

"You better."

They stared at each other, Barbara's smile turning relieved as she seemed to realize that Dick was fine. There was still a flicker of worry in her eyes though, and she looked toward the door. "I should get a nurse," she said. "They told me to alert them when you woke up."

"They'll make you leave," Dick said, glumly. Barbara rolled her eyes.

"No, they'll change your bandages, and maybe run some tests. I'll be back in ten minutes tops."

"Or they'll knock me out, and you won't get to talk to me at all."

"Or that." Barbara's eyes were tired, and worried, but she kept her smile full of relief and encouragement. She didn't have to say anything to tell him that she was glad he was okay. All she had to do was look at him, and he was thankful to avoid bringing up his condition.

"So how much trouble are you in?" Dick smirked when she groaned, covering her face with her hands. She shook her head, and sighed deeply, peeking at him behind her skinny fingers.

"When he sorts out this Arkham stuff, you might as well start calling me Rapunzel. 'Cause the only way you'll see me this summer is if you climb to my window." She was joking, of course, but Dick found himself grinning at the idea of it.

"Challenge accepted," he chuckled, pushing himself onto his elbows. His stomach constricted painfully against the bandaged, which were pulled taut against his wounds. Barbara's hands fell to her side, and she glanced at the door. It seemed to him that she didn't think he was being serious, and that was fine. He could frighten her later, since he now had an open invitation to.

She left to get a nurse quickly after, and suddenly Dick felt drowsy again. He was polite to the nurse as she smiled a too sweet smile that did not reach her tired brown eyes, and asked him how he was doing, if he was hurting. Dick replied that he was completely fine, and he asked cautiously when he was allowed to go home. The nurse merely smiled her amicable smile, and said that they would see how his skin was healing, and then make a judgment.

"Well," she said as she carefully applied fresh bandages to the cleaned wounds. "They aren't infected, so that's a good sign. We'll have to check with the doctor, though, and your father." The woman was busying herself with rolling up the bandages, and she'd lost herself for a moment. Her sad brown eyes widened for a moment. "Oh! Mr. Wayne. I'm sorry, I meant Mr. Wayne."

Dick smiled at her mistake. "It's fine," he assured her. She didn't look especially young, but it seemed to him that her face was prematurely lined, and her wispy blonde hair fell against her forehead in thin strands. Dick didn't know why she looked so dejected. He didn't want to know. It could be her job, or her home life, or a death, or an illness, or perhaps it was simply just depression. Dick had no way to help her, because she was a stranger. A kind stranger, but a stranger nonetheless, and with one last veiling smile, she left him alone.

He might have fallen asleep again while staring out the window, watching the streets fill up with dawdling people, performing the perfunctory tasks of going to work. Taxis zoomed across the road, blurs of yellow and black, and passing children would zip across the street, weaving between parked cars and traffic. Dick envied them. He wanted to run and play and laugh like a child too. Blüdhaven wasn't Gotham, and it seemed that kids weren't given much trouble if they were out and about by themselves. Dick could see that the city had a rotting underbelly, but at least it attempted to appear cleanly, unlike in Gotham, where you could practically smell the crime that oozed from the streets like a corpse in decay.

He watched the morning melt, and the sun glinted through the glass, nearly blinding him as birds perched upon the sill, pigeons peering dazedly at him, and pecking at the grimy lintel. He peered back, bird watching bird, until they all flew away in a sweep of gray feathers and soft twitters. He wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep, or gotten lost in a daze, but when he snapped out of it, there was someone at the door.

Two someones.

"Wally…?" Dick sat up, his eyes widening, and the wires in his arms tugged a little. Wally moved quickly to his side, at a speed that was a little too fast, and he stared down at him with large green eyes. Dick looked past him, and swallowed uneasily as Artemis stared back, her shoulder resting on the doorframe, and her dark ashen eyes narrowing.

"Dude, you gave me a heart attack," Wally laughed, playfully swatting Dick's arm. He smiled in response, though a little guiltily.

"Sorry, Walls," Dick replied, smiling up at his speedster friend. "Next time I get kidnapped, I'll text you first."

Wally gave him a curt nod, his chin jerking upward in mock seriousness. "That's all I ask," he remarked. He couldn't seem to keep the mask on though, because his lips were quirking into a silly grin. Though he seemed to falter a little, he looked down at his younger friend, and his head cocked to the side. "Seriously, though. You okay?"

"I'll be perfect once I leave this hospital," Dick said, cheerily. He looked back at Artemis, and he smiled minutely. "Hey, Arty."

"Hi." She watched him for a few moments, her eyes betraying her uncertainty, but she pushed away from the door anyway, and came to a stop at Wally's side. Her sharp gray eyes flickered over his face, examining his features as if she'd never seen him before a day in her life. She looked confused, and irritated, but most of all, she seemed to be relieved. "So… I really have the urge to kick your ass to kingdom come, but that's not really an option."

Dick smiled wanly at his hands, and he glanced out the window again, wondering where Barbara went, and how Jason was fairing. "Hey, I am a bedridden victim of torture," Dick said. "Cut me some slack here."

Artemis was staring at him, her eyes widening and narrowing and widening again. It seemed that the more she looked at him, the more she understood. Her mouth parted, then snapped shut, a process that gave her the appearance of a gaping mouthed fish.

Finally she seemed to find her voice. "You're… okay though, right? I don't mean your stomach, either."

Dick shifted beneath the pale sheets, his body resting uncomfortably on the hospital bed. Was he all right? He thought he was, but he couldn't be sure. The torture hadn't been all that bad, but then again, the assassin had not wanted to do anything to him in the first place. All he had wanted was Dick's blood…

"Shit," he murmured. Wally's eyebrows raised at that, and he let out a cry of dismay when Dick tossed the sheets back, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and moved to rip the wires from his arms.

"Whoa there!" Wally gasped, and Dick felt four pairs of hands on him, holding him firmly down against the bed. "Dude, if you think we're letting you go anywhere, you've dived off the deep end."

"I need to tell Bruce…" Dick said weakly, mentally slapping himself for forgetting something so important as his _compromised identity_. "Can't they see that I'm fine? I need to go home!"

"You aren't fine," Artemis said, forcing him to lay back down. "Skin takes time to heal, smartass. You're not going to be able to do anything properly right now."

Artemis was right, to some level. Dick wasn't fit to do anything worthwhile, unless he wanted to tear his stitches, and open the wounds wider… but he was still well enough that he could leave the damn hospital. "I have to talk to them," Dick said, staring into Artemis's gray eyes, and pleading with her with his own dark blue ones. She wasn't swayed, so Dick looked to Wally desperately.

"Bruce and Jason aren't here, Dick," Wally said, an apology in his gaze. "They're out. Doing their thing."

In broad daylight? Yeah, it had to be the Joker or something.

"Which I know about, just so you know," Artemis stated, pursing her lips. Dick stared at her for a moment, before he realized what she meant. He had seen it coming, but it still weighed heavily in his chest the fact that he'd let his identity slip through his fingers twice in only a few hours.

He groaned, covering his face with his hands as he tried to imagine Bruce's reaction to knowing that their cover was blown twice. Once by an ally, and once by an unknown assassin who had spent an hour peeling the skin from Dick's abdomen the night previous.

"It was supposed to be _funny_," Dick murmured, his hands dropping into his lap. But no matter what, even when he opened his eyes, the assassin's mask was staining his vision, splashing the world black and yellow, and one dark eye followed his face, taking in every aspect of his appearance in a swift observation. Dick took a deep breath, but breathing was growing harder when he realized just how much _danger his mistake put Bruce and Jason in_. "I… shit, guys, I… I really screwed up this time."

"What?" Artemis's eyes widened, and she stood up straighter, looking appalled. "Are you fricking kidding me? You're blaming yourself because I found out a secret, which is pretty freaking obvious, now that I think about it, like I'm really angry at myself for not _realizing_— wait. Wow, this isn't even about me, is it?"

"No, it's…" Dick closed his eyes and tried to remember his training. What was he supposed to do when his cover was blown? What would Batman do? What about Jason and Alfred? They were all in danger now because Dick hadn't been careful enough, and if any of them got hurt… "It's just… you're not the first to figure it out, Arty. And I've got a feeling the other guy… well, he's not gonna use the info to send me a birthday present. Unless he saved some of my skin… I actually wouldn't put it past him." His pass at humor did not amuse Wally or Artemis. In fact, they looked horrified. Rightfully so, really.

"No way," Wally whispered. "The guy… who skinned you…?"

"Oh, yeah." Dick grimaced, glancing at the door. He didn't feel comfortable talking about this. He didn't feel comfortable thinking about it either. The horror of the reality that his identity had been exposed to an unknown assassin hadn't fully sunken in the night before because Dick had been so focused on numbing the pain, and not giving in to his growing despair. Now the consequences were too unimaginable to bear thinking about. "Which is why Bruce needs to know."

"Yeah, I see your point." Wally whistled, fidgeting a little as the implications of what Dick was saying seemed to be made clear. Someone knew their identities. A villain someone, and that was enough to shake anyone who knew the Bats. "Whoa! Crap, you're going to be benched for this, aren't you?"

"Walls, being benched is like, the farthest thing from my list of priorities right now," Dick sighed. He managed a small smile though. "But, yeah, I'm out of commission for at least a month."

"A month?" Artemis cried, her eyes darting between Wally and Dick. "You're getting punished for a month over this? That's ridiculous!"

"No, it's Bat paranoia," Wally corrected, though he looked a little less than pleased himself. "See, Dick's got a different situation than you or me. We don't live with our partners, but he's gotta deal with Ba—ruce all the time, so when there's an injury, or a screw up…"

"This really isn't the time or the place to talk about this, Wally," Dick said gently. He appreciated that he was trying to explain, but it wasn't happening. Not when anyone could walk in, or overhear them. It was better if they left the hero talk alone. "But you guys see why I need to go, right? I have to tell Bruce and Jason about this… Hey, Wall, can I borrow your phone?"

He ended up calling Alfred, and warning him as discreetly as possible that they might be in danger. The old butler caught on quick, and bid him farewell with wishes of a swift discharge from the hospital. Dick sat quietly for a few minutes afterward, ignoring the worried stares of Wally and Artemis. After that, he tried to strike up a normal conversation, but he could not stop worrying of what might become of Jason, and Bruce, and his family, and he couldn't stand it.

Barbara returned a short time later with coffee and, bless her, a box of Count Chocula. Also, Dick noticed, she sported a double up of purple band-aids that patched up one of her bare shoulders. When Dick had asked what happened, she had simply shrugged, and said she'd gotten pushed into a wall. Of course she was lying, and of course she knew he knew she was lying, but Dick was too grateful for his cereal to care about it. Barbara could take care of herself, and she'd only get angry if he persisted.

"Betcha I could sneak out of here," Dick whispered to her, smiling at the glare she shot him in response. "Wanna be my getaway?"

"Not particularly," she replied. She stared out the window for a moment, her eyes distant. Wally and Artemis sat in the corner, fiddling with their phones. Artemis's legs were thrown across Wally's lap as she leaned back against the wall, scowling at her screen impatiently. Dick knew they were trying to find out who the assassin was, but they weren't going to get anything out of the League's database without a picture. Dick had been in the middle of doodling one for them when Barbara had walked in, and he had to quickly dispose of it.

"Aw, come on, Babs, I'd do it for you!"

"No, actually, you wouldn't." Barbara leaned back, her bright blue eyes stern and unyielding. "Plus, I'm in enough trouble for helping you. I really don't want to extend my punishment from house arrest to an actual jail cell, thanks very much."

"Yeah, but, let's be real, you're not actually going to listen to your dad if he grounds you. You'll sneak out." Dick smiled at her until her lips twitched, and she looked at him, her eyes glowing in agreement, but she shook her head.

"I think I've scared my dad enough for a while," she said. She didn't mean it though. Dick knew her, and he knew that she would give her father trouble until the day he loosened his choking grip on what he wanted her future to be— or rather, not to be.

Barbara left after that, because her father had come at last to retrieve her, and though he smiled warmly at Dick, it was obvious to see that the man was exhausted. If Dick had to assume, he would guess that the man hadn't slept in about two days, and he was running solely on coffee and determination. He gripped Barbara's shoulder as he spoke, as if he was afraid that she would disappear if he let go of her. She'd put on a sweater to cover the band-aids, but Dick saw her wince at the weight of his hand against the cut.

When she was gone, Dick looked to Wally and Artemis desperately, but they only appeared frustrated in their fruitless search for the assassin who had marked Dick Grayson as Nightwing. They apologized profusely, and swore they would continue looking into it, and Dick could only smile at them. He liked the idea of the three of them. Like a little team inside the team, the two who knew who he was, who knew him better than anyone else.

He felt a sudden stab of regret as he remembered Zatanna, who he had broken up with out of fear for his identity. He had been moments away from blurting his real name, when he remembered that he had sworn never to do so to Bruce, to protect Bruce, and so Dick had done the only thing he could think of to push himself away from the girl. He'd broken up with her very suddenly, and even he'd been surprised when the words had left his mouth. He remembered the confusion and hurt that flashed in her eyes when she realized what he was saying, but she had only smiled and nodded.

"_Okay,"_ she'd said to him, her slender fingers catching him by the cape. She pulled him into a kiss, which had been short and sad, tasting of nothing but bitterness and apathy. He remembered her coy smile when she pulled back, her hurt dispersing and melting into mischief. _"Don't worry about it. We're still chalant, you know?" _Then she'd winked at him, and fled back to the safety of the Team. She'd never shown any other signs of being sad, but Dick knew he shouldn't have ended it like that.

There was comfort in letting the people he trusted know his name. When he had told Wally, it had been the biggest relief, and the most amazing feeling in the world, because he had a friend who _knew_ him. Until that point, Barbara Gordon had been the only person he could call a true friend, and not even she could be confided in with everything.

Wally and Artemis left when they caught the hint that Bruce would be arriving, after an exchange of high fives, and promises of secrecy and determination. Dick sat solemnly in his bed, staring at the sketch he'd drawn of the assassin. It wasn't exactly Picasso, but he figured it would serve its purpose.

When Jason appeared in the doorway, Dick straightened up immediately, his arms tugging at the wires stuck in his veins. The boy looked at him, one eye half swollen, and the skin around his nose was purplish and broken. He gave Dick a weak smile, but it was obvious that the kid was utterly exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, puffy and dark from sleep deprivation. His hair was completely askew, flying around his head in an array of dark strands.

"Dickie," he greeted, his voice hoarse. "You look swell."

"Really?" Dick smirked, ignoring the sting as the wires stretched against his skin. "'Cause you look like you just ran into a wall. Twice."

Jason grimaced, raising his fingers to his broken nose, but never touching it. Bruce materialized behind him, his dark eyes full of worry. Dick knew it was only an act, but he smiled at the man anyway. He feared what he would think of his failure to protect his identity. Nervously, Dick clenched his fists, the drawing of the assassin crumpling beneath his fingers.

Jason hopped up onto the cot, pursing his lips at Dick as he moved, his head tilting from side to side. "So… has Barbara been here at all?"

"Babs?" He blinked, and looked to Bruce with a questioning gaze, but the man only responded with a level gaze that told him it was important. "Uh, yeah. She left about half an hour ago with the Commish."

Jason whistled, and glanced at Bruce as well, his eyes big and curious, but Bruce simply nodded. Their conversation turned to trivial things that were only meant to buy time until the doctor came in to confirm that Dick could be released. Dick wanted to hug Jason, relieved that the boy wasn't too shaken over what had happened… but then Dick heard the bitterness in his voice as he spoke, and he felt the awkward air between Bruce and the boy. They had gotten into a fight. Over what, Dick could only imagine, but it was obvious that things were strained with the Bat and the Bird right now.

Leaving the hospital was almost hard. Dick didn't know what to say, and the doodle of the assassin was still clenched tightly in his sweaty palm. Jason chatted to him with his bold, haughty tone, but Dick could hear the fear beneath his pride, and the confusion that flickered in his pale eyes as they flashed between Bruce and him. He was half asleep by the time Alfred got the limo moving, and Dick scooted closer to him in order to allow his head to fall against his shoulder.

"Bruce," Dick murmured, his mouth dry as his fist tightened around the crumpled napkin. The face of the assassin was still a mystery, and it made Dick feel sick, because the man knew him now. He could do… anything. Jason stirred against his side, his eyes sliding beneath his lids. He was still awake, and listening to every word. "I… I made a mistake."

Bruce did not respond, though his eyes did meet Dick's, a request for an explanation evident in the shadows of them. Dick took a deep breath, and he dropped the napkin into his lap, carefully unfolding it. He smoothed it out against his knee, the crinkles and creases marring the shameful sketch of the assassin's mask… Even with the simplistic design, Dick thought he'd done a mediocre job at best.

"This is the guy who took the skin from me," Dick said, handing the napkin to Bruce. He took it, his eyes darting across the thin paper as if words were scrawled in the scratches of ink that formed a face. He was taking in everything about the picture in one go, and staying for more after he had everything he needed. "He's… an assassin. A few months ago, we fought him at Cadmus— you remember that, right? The night I came up with the Nightwing persona? Well, he cut me that night. I… I don't know how he figured it out, but… he took my blood last night, and…"

Bruce leaned back, his face going stony in the dim light that glowed against the tinted windows. Jason sat up, looking at Dick with a horrified expression stretching his features. His mouth fell open in alarm, and his eyes were wide as they flashed to Bruce desperately, as if he would magically have a solution for this problem. He didn't. He didn't say anything, and the rest of the ride to the manor was a blur. The only thing Dick was truly aware of was the heaviness of his fear, and the thick tension that clung to the air as Jason curled up in his seat, scooting far away from Dick and Bruce, setting himself in a corner of solitude as the car rolled forward, and lights fluttered past.

They didn't speak until they arrived at the manor. Jason fled to his room the moment they stepped through the doorway, and Dick watched him sadly. He had no idea what Jason thought about this. It was probable that he simply did not want to deal with it. Dick didn't want to deal with it, truthfully, and if he could run and hide from it in his room he would. It was too late though.

"I was careless," Dick whispered. Bruce turned to face him, his dark eyes solemn.

"Yes," he said. "You were."

Dick exhaled. He took a step back, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Bruce anymore, because he didn't want to see the disappointment in his gaze. He was tired, and he had a box of Count Chocula to eat, so what was he doing? Waiting for Bruce to yell at him for the mistake? Dick knew he wouldn't, and that made it all the worse.

"However," Bruce said, forcing Dick to look up at him. "Last night was not your fault. This couldn't have been avoided. What matters now is that we catch him before he does any further damage."

Dick wanted to object, and say that it _was_ his fault, but he could only nod vacantly, his body numb from the thought of losing Bruce and Jason and Alfred because of one foolish mishap. Dick wondered if Bruce would go on patrol without them tonight— then he remembered the news about Arkham, and he figured it was inevitable. Dick looked at Bruce, and he smiled weakly, his hands shaking feebly as he shoved them in his pockets. In his head, he could hear the assassin's low, smooth voice as it coaxed him into torture without a fight.

"Dick," Bruce said. Dick had turned toward the stairwell, but now he looked back, his head bent low. "I want you to keep an eye on Barbara Gordon."

That surprised him. After what he'd revealed, Bruce was worrying about Barbara? "Why?" Dick asked, not bothering to hide how startled he was.

Bruce watched him, his lips tugging into a grim smile that fell quickly from his face. "She seems to have taken an interest in some of your more dangerous activities."

Dick stared as Bruce left the room, more than likely off toward the Batcave to try and crack the assassin's identity. He'd sounded almost amused, but there was a threat beneath it. Barbara was treading across a minefield, and if they weren't careful…

He recalled the scratch on her arm, and he wondered, sickened, if the next time he saw his friend would be peering into a body bag.

* * *

_This gave me trouble because it's all aftermath, and I just didn't care? It wasn't until I started hinting at Batgirl that I got interested in it._

_This was pretty boring, but hey, there were things I needed to address. Hopefully I'll stop screwing around next chapter and get back to the place i wanted to be in this story like three chapters ago. Whoops!_

_Last week I wrote a Tim story, and I'm going to shamelessly self-advertise it. It's just an angsty one shot that I did to play with Tim's character. Of course, it's got batbro bonding, so that was fun._

_Merry Christmas! Review, please?_


	9. High on Height

**fall and fail**

**{high on height}**

He was benched indefinitely. Dick couldn't object to it, because he knew they had to be careful with him on the field now, but he felt antsy and fitful stuck at home while Jason and Bruce went out every night. He talked to Wally and Artemis about it, and apparently they'd pulled Batman aside and tried to talk him into letting Dick out again…

It was appreciated, but hopeless. Still, he felt a swell of affection for his two friends. He missed fighting alongside them already, and it had barely been two weeks. His wounds were almost healed, though they still stung in a ghostly pain every so often. They left scars, too, which was sort of frightening. He felt self-conscious taking his shirt off now. Everyone had stared at him when the team went swimming together at the beach. He didn't want to let it bother him, but he found himself awkwardly folding his arms across his navel, his eyes cast toward the ground. He couldn't explain where he'd gotten the scars. He couldn't tell them that he'd been protecting his little brother.

Now he sat, smiling obligatorily at the faceless elite, his fingers taut around Jason's skinny arm, pressing warningly against the muscle. The boy was scowling up at a flock of women who were cooing about how sweet the newest Wayne boy was, how beautiful his pale eyes were, oh they could truly be brothers! Dick laughed, pulling Jason closer to him, and the boy looked up, his eyes wide and his lips twisting in irritation. He hated parties, and he hated rich people, and all the boy wanted was to run up to his room and shove his headphones over his ears and not talk to these people ever again.

"Dick! Jason!"

The two boys spun around, and Dick grinned as a lithe little red head pushed her way through the hoard of women, her fingers wrapping around Jason's. Dick shot her a grateful look, his smile crooked as he relaxed his grip on Jason's arm. Barbara looked up at the women, her eyes growing large in faux surprise, and she smiled wanly, apologetically, and Dick internally praised her. She played the game well, for a girl who was barely a player.

"I'm so sorry, but can I steal these two? I haven't seem them in weeks!"

A lie, but a tender one. Barbara knew how to twist the minds into pity, and she shifted her position so she was next to Dick, close enough for him to smell the wafting tang of vanilla in her bouncing red curls. Dick looked at the women, and he shot them his own apologetic smile, his arm hooking around Barbara's.

"It's true," he said, letting his voice become low and solemn. "Not since you saved our lives, right, Barb?"

That seemed to do it. Whispers of recognition fluttered amongst the women as they realized who this girl was. She'd refused to speak to the public about being responsible for taking Jason and Dick to the hospital the night of their rescue, and whenever it was brought up she got frustrated. She didn't like the way people were blowing up her role in the rescue, and she didn't want people to notice her for it. However, it did come in handy sometimes.

Barbara yanked Jason away, and Jason snatched Dick's wrist, allowing him to stumble at the end of their little chain. The music was slow, a string of violins and pianos humming classics and thrumming dully. They weaved between the partygoers, and Jason laughed, suddenly much happier. Dick saw Bruce standing in his own hoard of elites, and he smiled sadly at him when their eyes met. Bruce entertained people as much as he could to keep up his image, but he seldom enjoyed it.

"Babs," Dick called to her. She hummed in response, her heels clicking against tile. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"I didn't either!" She sounded excited, her head tilted back at him, and her glossy red lips stretched into a grin. "My dad didn't want to come alone, so he let me off my punishment for tonight!"

"Remind me to thank the Commish," Jason said, sounding relieved. "I thought I was gonna end up punching someone back there."

"Sorry, Jay," Dick sighed. The boy didn't like to be cooed at or coddled. He hated people who treated him like a charity case, or looked at him like he was a child. So, he pretty much hated everyone in the room.

Barbara stopped when they'd reached the outskirts of the party, and she spun around, her hair floating around her head, curling strangely around her face and sliding against her shoulders. She looked very nice, all subtle curves and bold reds, and her dress was vermillion, and it flowed around her knees and flared at her hips, gold lace tracing her waist. It crawled along her hipbones, and beneath her breasts, and hooking around her chest. Dick quickly averted his eyes before she caught him staring.

"You've come pretty far, Dick," Barbara giggled. "I remember when you could barely sit still at parties. Now you handle it just as well as Bruce."

"I'm not that good." It was a skill that needed to be honed over time. He'd been a poor pleaser as a child, but as time went on, he understood that it was a needed act. Barbara obviously had caught on, and molded herself into a player somewhere along the way. He wondered when that had happened. "Parties back then were more fun, though, because it was easier to sneak off."

"You snuck off?" Jason cocked an eyebrow, and scoffed. "Golden boy skipped out on the parties? Oh, the shock!"

"Oh, Dick is the farthest thing from golden." Barbara smirked, her arms folding across her chest. Dick rolled his eyes. "He's actually pretty awful."

"Wow, thanks. You're lovely too."

"I mean, when we were kids he used to sabotage _everyone_ at these things." She grinned, her eyes bright with amusement, and Dick frowned at her. Jason looked at him, disbelieving that he could be such a troublemaker.

"Oh, don't act like I was the only one," Dick said, mocking an offended scowl. "You helped!"

"Okay, yeah, I'll admit to that." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. They were a bold blue, not cold like Jason's, or deep like Dick's. They were tools that flashed dangerously beneath the thickness of her eyelashes, and when she smiled they glowed like beacons. "But you were usually the mastermind."

"Yes, because I'm clever."

"No, actually, you're just a little shit." Jason laughed, and Dick only shrugged, not really fazed by her insults. They were usually affectionate anyway. Then he looked at her, and he grinned, reaching out and catching her hand.

"Let's go up to the roof," he whispered, watching her give a little laugh, and smile up at him. "Just like we used to."

"Hmm…" She tapped her chin, and looked down at Jason, who was staring at their clasped hands incredulously. "What do you think, Jason? Want to go up to the roof?"

"I'd drink lye if it meant getting out of this damn party," Jason said, spinning around and disappearing into the crowd. Dick exchanged a glance with Barbara before letting go of her hand, taking a step back. She shook her head, and she slipped away, her body a blot of red in the darkness as she ascended the stairs. Dick followed close behind, pressing his finger to his lips when he passed Alfred. The butler mimicked him, an amused smile coming to his lips.

He shrugged off his suit coat, tossing it on Jason's bed as he ducked through the open window, his feet landing on a support beam. Barbara was on her toes, her shoes hanging against her extended fingers as she leaned into the wind. Her hair whipped across her face, glossy curls stained maroon in the darkness. Her dress looked black, and it fluttered around her knees, dark and wavering against the air. Jason was balancing on his hands beside her, looking happier than Dick had seen him in weeks.

"You know that feeling," Barbara breathed, a gust of wind tipping her precariously. "Like you know you're sort of insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but then you get this feeling of… adrenaline, and you don't want to let it go, so you try everything you can to hold onto it, to be something more important than you actually are?"

Dick stared at her, and Jason bent himself into a bridge, flipping back onto his feet. He was grinning fiercely, his face illuminated by the moon and the stars. "You do realize your life isn't an eighties movie, right, Barb?" But he was looking at Dick, and suddenly his eyes were worried.

Barbara laughed, and Dick stepped closer to her, nodding to Jason. Barbara glanced at him, and she smirked, letting the wind push her backwards. His eyes widened, and he heard Jason shout in surprise as she fell, her body welcoming the air. Dick's arm flew out, and he felt her body jolt as it stopped, suspended in the air by nothing but her thin wrist caught in his hand. Dick stared at her for a long moment before he let out a breath of relief, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

And then she _smiled_.

"Did I scare you?" she laughed, waving her other arm at Jason, who quickly grabbed it. They pulled her upright, and she wobbled a little as she adjusted to gravity.

"Are you crazy?" Jason snapped, and Dick saw her wince, yanking her hand from his grasp. Dick shot him a glare as she held it gingerly against her chest. "You could have killed yourself!"

"Yeah right." Barbara rolled her eyes, the whites of them glowing in the darkness. "I would have caught myself if Dick didn't."

"You know, I appreciate the trust, I really do," Dick said, his voice shaky as he gripped her hand tightly. "But what the _hell_ was that about?"

She shrugged, glancing away from his face. She looked a little guilty suddenly, and she bit her lip. "Sorry," she said softly. "I just… I don't know. But don't act so surprised, okay? You did the exact same thing to me the first time we came up here!"

"That's completely different!"

She pursed her lips and glared up at him. "Yeah? How so, because you're an acrobat? Trained by the circus?"

"Well… yeah…"

She pulled her hand from his, and she folded her arms across her chest, staring out into the night. "Yeah, well, I can fly too. If I want to."

Jason stared at her, and Dick took a step back, watching her warily. His heart was beating hard in his chest, and his stomach was jittery with shock and apprehension. For a moment he'd thought… if he hadn't caught her… Dick didn't want to lose anyone else to the vicious nature of gravity. Not Babs, not anyone. It wouldn't be fair.

"Do you want to?" Jason asked.

Barbara blinked down at him, puzzled. "Do I want to what?"

"Fly."

Dick's eyes widened, and he quickly reprimanded him. "Jason," Dick stated, his voice dark and commanding. It was a threat, a warning, for him to be quiet now before he regretted it. "Let's go back inside."

"Well I'm just curious!" Jason was frowning at the ground, his brows knitted together. "I mean, why the hell not? She'll only—"

"Get inside," Dick growled. He surprised himself, as well as Barbara and Jason, and he blanched. He'd sounded… like Batman. That scared him. He faltered, and he met Barbara's eyes, his mouth falling open in a start at the fear that glowed inside them. "I… I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Jay?"

"It's okay." The look that Jason shot Dick told him the truth. No. No it was not okay. Who did Dick think he was? Because he wasn't Batman, and he had no power over Jason. That's what the glare told him.

"Dick…?" Barbara murmured worriedly. Dick shook his head. He felt sick. Batman was… not him. He didn't want to become him. Even his voice… he'd sounded so silly, really, and that made him want to slap himself. He wasn't Batman.

* * *

The lights glowed faintly around them, smog and humidity stifling in their lungs as they glided carefully over the streets. After three weeks of nothing, Bruce had given Dick the clearance to go out as Nightwing. Gotham tasted dirty, and muggy, too hot in the thick air of summer, and rain drizzled against the skintight black suit, pattering softly against the Kevlar. Robin was following Nightwing only on Batman's orders, which didn't bother him as much at he thought it would. It bothered Robin more.

"Ancient Greeks were gross," Robin mumbled, shaking out his damp hair as it stuck to his forehead. Nightwing had made him list the Ancient Greek gods, and how they had came to be. He was still struggling in summer school, and patrol cut into study time. "Can you please explain to me how cutting off a penis and throwing it into the ocean makes a babe like Aphrodite? I don't get it."

"Magic," Nightwing replied, scanning the ground below. They were trying to track Ivy, who had been one of the three escapees from Arkham. Batman and Robin had caught the Joker already, which had apparently been a less than pleasant experience. Nightwing was a little less than turbed by the fact that the Joker had acted offended by Jason's presence, as if the fact that Jason was not Dick had been a slight personally against the Joker. Ivy and Scarecrow were still out and about though, laying low so the Bats didn't find them before they could make their plans.

"So," Robin hummed, "if I castrated, say, the Joker, and tossed his junk into a vat of acid, would a monster pop up like a daisy, or what? Little Joker, straight from the depths of hell."

"You have a messed up mind, Little Wing," Nightwing chuckled. Robin looked ruffled, and his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Ew, ew, ew, don't call me that!"

"You say ew to a harmless nickname when you were just talking about castrating the Joker? You need some serious help!" Nightwing laughed and ducked as the boy lunged at him, his leg whistling over Dick's head. His cape whipped softly against the wind, and he caught Nightwing's arm, punching it without the force of his knuckles to put damage into the blow. Nightwing simply flipped away, landing carefully on the edge of a building, a goofy grin on his lips. Then a voice buzzed in his ear, and his smile was wiped away.

"_If you two cannot take this seriously, I'm going to separate you_," Batman rumbled. Nightwing and Robin shared a glance, and they quickly regained their composure. Patrol was no place for this.

"Sorry, B," Nightwing breathed. "Any luck on your end?"

"_No_." Batman paused, his voice breathy in something almost akin to exasperation. "_I'm tailing a redhead. Not Ivy. She's coming your way_."

Robin groaned, and Nightwing frowned. "Again?" Robin mumbled, peeking around Nightwing's shoulder, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. "She's not gonna stop, Batman. Why do you keep entertaining her when you don't want her to do this?"

Batman did not answer, and Robin scowled, turning his head away from Nightwing when the older boy gave an inquisitive stare. Then he sighed, and leapt from his perch, his body curling into a flip as he spiraled toward the ground. Nightwing did not follow, but simply watched curiously as a girl— a redhead— spun around, red curls bouncing against the heavy Kevlar vest she wore. Nightwing stared at her, his eyes narrowing.

_Babs_, he thought bitterly. _What are you doing?_

"Fancy seeing you again," Robin chirped. Nightwing raised an eyebrow. Had they been doing this a lot? Why hadn't Jason told him about this? Dick knew Barbara was being… a bit of a bother to the Bats, but he didn't realize… "Oh, hey, you upgraded your costume. I like the bat."

"Are you going to tie me up again?" she asked, her head cocking slightly to the side, and her hand rested on her hip. Wow, so sassy. "'Cause it'd be pretty mean of you to leave a poor girl all tied up in Crime Alley. I'd rather not be jailbait, thanks."

"Nah, I only did that last time so you wouldn't follow us to the Joker. But he's all locked up now, so no worries." Robin grinned, and he circled Babs, his cape billowing around him as he peered at her getup. She folded her arms across her chest, looking rather defensive and uncomfortable.

"I didn't know you were going after the Joker," Barbara hissed, spinning to face Robin. "You could have told me."

"Nope. Bats orders. Look, I'd love to stand here and chat all night, but I'm kinda on patrol, and I like, _just_ got yelled at for goofing off. So…" Robin cleared his throat, forcing his voice to go deeper, mimicking a tone of authority. "Go home, Barbara."

"No names on the field," Barbara mocked, her voice biting. Nightwing stood, the wind whistling against his hair, and he frowned. "And I can't."

Nightwing dropped down behind her, and noticed how makeshift her costume was. The bulletproof vest was familiar, and it was the only thing safe about the outfit. Beneath it was the gleam of black underarmor, and black fingerless gloves. Her pants were tight, and black as well, probably from gymnastics judging by the way it stretched when she moved. It was breathable, but it would tear easier than stockings.

"Why?" he asked, slipping aside as she jumped and spun, her leg missing him by a few inches. She stared at him, and he saw that her cowl was nothing more than a police helm, and a standard pair of weather goggles. There were no lenses, however, and he could see the boldness of her large blue eyes as she glared at him, her hand at her waist.

She seemed visibly relieved when she got a good look at him, and she squinted at the blue bird on his chest. "Sorry," she breathed. "I thought you were Batman."

Nightwing stiffened, chewing his tongue to keep himself from growling. "Well, I'm not," he said, his voice thin. "I'm Nightwing."

"Right," Barbara said. She rolled her eyes, looking between him and Robin, her bright red lips pulling upward in a smirk. "Wow, I'm really bothering you guys with this vigilante thing, aren't I?"

"Well you won't stop," Robin pointed out, flipping onto a crate, and then jumping up to swing from a low pipe. "And Batman kind of hates anyone who tries to mess with his city— be glad that he hasn't told your dad yet."

"Yeah, about that…" Barbara bit her lip, and she closed her eyes, her head hanging as she took a few steady breaths. "That's… the reason I'm out right now. My dad didn't come home."

"He's the Commish," Nightwing said. He ignored the sharp look she gave him, and the way her eyes narrowed as they flitted up and down, assessing his appearance. "Late nights come with the job."

"I haven't talked to him in _two days_," Barbara spat, turning on him with wide, furious eyes. "Try and tell me there's nothing wrong with that, and I'm going to knock you into a wall. _Nightwing_."

"I'd like to see you try," Nightwing retorted, smirking as his eyes fell on the bold yellow bat that flared across her breast. "_Batgirl_."

"Slow it down, love birds," Robin crooned, tossing himself up onto the pipe, crouching into a perch above them. "You two can have your little flirty spat later. You said the Commish has been missing for two days? Shouldn't we have been alerted by now? Wouldn't that make the news?"

"I called the station," Barbara said slowly. "But… no one answered. I don't know what's wrong. I checked his office, but the entire place was deserted. It was unsettling, actually."

Robin jumped down, his fingers against his earpiece. "Robin to Batman," he said, his smirk falling. "Um… Bar— BG just informed us that Commissioner Gordon has been MIA for two days. Did you know about this?"

Robin's voice echoed in Nightwing's ear, and he glanced at Barbara, who was standing with her arms tight across her chest. She was masking her fear very well— but it was still there.

"_No_," Batman growled in their ears. "_I spoke to him last night, but tonight the signal wasn't lit. Tell her we'll look into it, and get her home_."

Nightwing quickly put his hand to his ear before Batman could cut the connection. "You and I both know that's not going to be an easy task," he sighed. "And why did no one tell me about this in the first place?"

"_Take her home_," Batman ordered. The com went silent then, and Nightwing's lips twisted bitterly. The man was lurking somewhere around here, but he was leaving wrangling Barbara to them. Of course he would.

"That was about as helpful to my life as the castration of Uranus was to my academic career," Robin said dryly.

Barbara looked at him, startled, and Nightwing chuckled softly. "Uh, let's get off that topic, Robin. _Batgirl_ here won't understand."

"You're the one who thought studying on duty was a good idea," Robin grumbled, stepping forward and grabbing Barbara's arm. "Kay, BG, we've got orders to escort you home."

Nightwing watched, half amused, as Barbara slipped his grasp and leapt atop the crate Robin had been playing on earlier, her hands catching the pipe with great ease, and she flipped herself toward the sky, her body curling easily against the wind. Nightwing blinked up at her, impressed with her celerity. She pushed herself to the top of the building, her body gliding with the wind, and she looked down at them, her eyes big and blue and bold and challenging. Add some points to her cowl, and a cape, and she could truly pass for a Bat.

The wind whipped her hair against her face as she smirked down at them, determination glowing in her pale face. "I'm going to find my dad," she called to them. "And you're not going to stop me!"

"Shit," Robin breathed, darting forward, jumping on the crate. When he reached for the pipe, he was flung backwards, a sleek green vine darting out and whipping him toward the opposite wall. Robin caught himself easily, rolling against the ground and looking up wildly. "Shit!"

Immediately Nightwing looked up to Barbara, and he sighed in relief when he saw she was no longer there. Good. Nightwing spun around, a batarang in hand, and he slid backwards, hovering protectively over Robin as he sliced through several vines that darted all around them.

"Robin, get Batman," he hissed, listening as the boy struggled to fend off all the spiraling plants.

"I'm not leaving you by yourself," Robin growled, flipping upwards and flinging a volley of birdarangs over Nightwing's head. He watched as they exploded, and Ivy let out a screech of fury. She appeared then, her eyes flashing with rage and annoyance, and she moved forward, her striped face glowing faintly green in the darkness.

"You," she spat, "are not Batman."

"What gave it away?" Nightwing smirked, ducking a few more vines, and catching Jason by the cape when he stumbled back from a snapping plant. "Lack of the cowl? Or maybe lack of the cape? Oh, I bet it's the big blue bird on my chest, huh?"

"Is she trying to get caught?" Robin whispered. Then he cried out, attempting to flip backwards, but he was already caught in a tangle of vines and rope, a pallid face beaming at him in the darkness. Nightwing growled, and dove at her, ignoring and dodging the vines and Ivy for the moment, cutting through the plants and bindings that held Jason in a death grip with three swift strokes. He pushed her back against the wall, his arm at her throat. She was laughing all the way, her eyes bright with a mischievous glee.

"What are you doing here, Harley?" Nightwing snapped. Harley Quinn grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling as she batted her eyelashes at him.

"You!" she giggled. "I don't know you. Do I? Oooh, Red! Look at him, he's not even close to Batsy, he's so little!" Nightwing winced as she pinched his cheek, and he spun away from her as she flung a small knife where his stomach had been moments earlier.

"Um, why are Harley and Ivy together?" Robin asked, leaping over the foliage and slamming his fist into Ivy's stomach. She recoiled, and spun away from him, blocking a kick and catching him by the cape, flinging him into the air.

"Great question," Nightwing grunted, slipping handcuffs from his belt and slipping closer to Harley, his knuckles meeting the pressure points in her arm, and she yelped as cuffs caught onto her wrists. "Hey, Harley, guess what? I'm going to take you to see the Joker."

Her eyes were bright at that, and then she widened as she looked at him. "Oooh!" she gasped. "Oh, oh, oh! I know, I know! You're the bitty boy blunder! The real one! Wowie wow, all grown up, huh, puddin'?"

Nightwing tossed her aside and spun around, his eyes flashing to Robin. "Get Batman," he ordered. "I can handle this!"

"You know, I think—"

"Go!" Nightwing slashed through a few more vines, and he shook his head, slipping beneath the shrubbery that was alive around him, and he saw Ivy move toward him. Robin stared at Nightwing for a moment, before he shook his head and jumped, weaving between the flora and catching the top of one of the nearby buildings.

Nightwing blinked, flipping away as Poison Ivy slid closer to him, her plants weaving all around him. He could fend them off easily. It was her close proximity that worried him. He scowled and kicked off the wall, slicing through her arm as she reached out to touch him. She gasped, and stepped back, her eyes wide and vehement.

"Nope," Nightwing grumbled. "Nope, nope, nope. No creepy mojo from you, I'm still underage."

He did have to wonder why Ivy and Harley had decided to attack him— or why they were together at all. If it had anything to do with the missing Commissioner, they were going to be sorry for it. He'd make sure of that. He heard a slight rustling from above, and he sighed, knowing who it was before he even looked. Had she been lurking around here this entire time? Silly girl.

"You know," Nightwing said, ducking and slicing and weaving between the growth of plants. "I bet the Commissioner would love to have you two in custody. Want to guess how long it'll take him to get here?"

And then Ivy smiled, and Nightwing rolled his eyes behind his mask. She took the bait. Of course. She wanted to brag. "Oh, I don't think the Commisioner will be going anywhere any time soon."

Nightwing grinned, and opened his mouth to snap a reply, but something whizzed over his head, catching Ivy's shoulder, and she shrieked, and glared upward as the crudely made batarang imbedded itself in the wall behind them. He had been expecting her to do something, but it surprised him how… accurate the shot had been. She must have been practicing.

"Kay, that's all I wanted to know." Nightwing kicked her back, grasping her sticky shoulder for a moment, and flinging himself over the vines, tossing batarangs along the corners of the alley, and then dropping a dozen or so smoke pellets. The little spheres burst all around him, and he flew into the air, catching the pipe, and then a loose brick, and another, until he was at the top of the building, perching on the ledge. He flicked the detonator in his belt and grabbed Barbara's hand, grinning at her as he dragged her forward. "Nice shot!"

Her eyes widened as he pulled her across the top of the building, her head whipping back. "Uh, thanks?" She frowned, shaking her head furiously. "We need to go back! She has my dad!"

"Maybe," Nightwing said. "But we're going to get him back. She'll lead us to him, don't worry."

"What?"

"I got a tracker on her." Nightwing smirked down at her as they reached the building's edge, and he pulled his grappling gun from his belt. "She shouldn't be able to shrug it off too quickly. Stuck it in that nice shoulder wound you gave her. Hold on, by the way."

She stared at him incredulously. "I am _not_—!" She clamped her mouth shut as the batarangs detonated behind them, and she chewed on her lower lip, her nose scrunching in frustration. "Ugh! Fine, fine!" She tentatively moved closer to him, her fingers gripping his arms. He shot the gun and shook his head, giving her a disbelieving look.

"Do you _want_ to fall?" he laughed, hooking his arm around her waist. "Hold on to me, okay? Now really isn't the time to be shy!"

"Oh my god," she growled, moving her arms so they were around his neck. "Is this better? Or do you want me to take that gun and—" He didn't allow her to finish whatever insult she planned on throwing at him. She gasped as he leapt from the building, and she choked trying to keep a scream from passing her lips, and her arms tightened around him fearfully. And then she began to laugh. "Oh my god!"

He grinned, and then he frowned, because he'd forgotten that she wasn't supposed to be here. She should be at home, not in danger… but hey, when did Barbara ever follow the rules? He landed easily on another building, his arm still tight around her waist, and he listened as her laughter died slowly. She untangled her arms from around his neck, and stepped away from him, her eyes wide with delight as she spun around her staring around them in awe.

"Can…" She sounded breathless, high on adrenaline, and she blinked up at him brightly. "Can we do that again?"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, because she sounded like a small child who wanted nothing more than to go on a ride at a fair one more time. She looked a little like a child too, all wide eyed and beaming, her excitement too much to contain. It occurred to Nightwing that perhaps she might have quit her stint at vigilantism eventually. If he hadn't given her a taste of what it was really like to sail across rooftops, and fly like a bird.

"Okay…" Nightwing said slowly, wrapping an arm around her waist again. This time she had not a hint of reluctance throwing her arms around his neck, stepping up on the building's ledge and grinning like a fool. "Just don't tell Batman."

"Please," she laughed, "I bet he already knows."

And then they flew.

* * *

_Wow I wonder what I could possibly ship from the very lengthy chapter that doesn't even truly introduce Batgirl. How does one contain themselves with writing, because I honestly cannot limit myself. When I plotted this out, this happened in like chapter five. I just didn't account for fun dialogue I guess._

_Yeah. I really like Barbara. I also like that she doesn't take anyone's shit. If she wants to be Batgirl, she's gonna be Batgirl, and it's so great. I wish we could have seen her do it. _

_Also, I'm pretty sure Ivy was taken to Belle Reve in the show, but I don't care, she ended up in Arkham. _

_Quick update? Yes. Christmas Break thus far has been me writing. That's it. Like, I wanted to try and finish Teen Titans, and move on to Batman Beyond, but nope. Dani's gotta write about Damian getting traumatized (go read that, I'm proud of it), and Batgirl Begins, oh yes, don't think about priorities or the fact that you have homework, just write ALL the Young Justice._

_I have issues. Review, please?_


	10. Essence of Fear

**fall and fail**

**{essence of fear}**

He didn't mean for it to happen. He hadn't wanted it to happen. Barbara Gordon had always been that one thing that grounded him to the normal world, and now she was another part of his convoluted double life. Not that she realized it, of course. She wanted to be a vigilante for her own reasons, different reasons than Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, and Jason Todd. Barbara wanted to help people. She had no personal vendetta against anyone, but simply a natural thirst for justice.

Maybe that was why he'd left her a stash of real batarangs after helping her get home the night they saved her father from Ivy. She wouldn't notice them unless she looked, but he thought it would be a nice gesture. She'd appreciate them, and she wouldn't need to cut her fingers anymore trying to make them herself. It was only to keep her busy, Dick told himself. She could just practice aiming with them.

"Her birthday is coming up," Jason whispered one night, after they'd once again met with the redheaded 'Batgirl' on patrol. Robin and Nightwing had agreed to try and keep her away from Batman, if possible, though they were sure the man knew already.

"I don't need you to tell me that, Jaybird," Dick muttered, sinking into his chair as he watched the television screen flicker in the darkness.

"Yeah, well, I was thinkin'… she keeps getting nicked and shit with that crummy outfit. Plus, she looks silly in it." Jason rolled onto his side, peering up at Dick curiously in the darkness of the room. His round face glowed faintly white from the glare of the screen, and he smiled cockily. "Maybe she should help her out."

Dick sighed. They were supposed to be trying to sway Barbara away from being a hero. In truth, they were only making the situation worse by encouraging her. Dick knew that showing their support of her activities were the worst thing they could do now, but how could they not? She wasn't doing any harm, and she helped more than they wanted to admit. The truth was, it seemed, that Jason and Dick just didn't have the heart to put effort in stopping her. It was silly, and dangerous, but Dick _liked_ having Barbara around. It made everything seem lighter.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea, Jay," Dick said quietly.

"Oh come on!" Jason sat up, his eyes widening at his older brother. He scowled, and folded his arms across his chest. "No one has stopped her yet! You wanna know why? 'Cause secretly we all like the idea of having her around— even Bruce has done, like, close to nothing to stop Babs from doing this."

That wasn't true. Bruce was truly trying to keep Barbara off the streets— but unless he told her father, it simply just was not going to happen. They all knew it, but none of them wanted the repercussions of that action. Dick and Bruce knew how the Commissioner would handle it— they wanted Barbara out of heroing, not put on actual house arrest.

"We really shouldn't."

Jason groaned, slapping his forehead in exasperation. Dick smiled a little, but it was getting out of hand. Jason really thought Barbara deserved to be a hero. Dick… didn't know how he felt about it. Part of him loved the idea, proud and somewhat envious of his good friend, who held such a strong resolve for what she believed to be right. But another part of him feared for her safety, and for her grip on the situation.

"Yeah, okay," Jason said. "Maybe we shouldn't. But we're not gonna do shit to stop her, so why put her in any more danger? She's gonna get hurt if we don't help her out."

"Because…" Dick shook his head and laughed uneasily. "Well, come on, do you really want Babs to come on patrols with us? We'd have to train her properly, you know."

"I gladly volunteer for that." Jason smirked, and Dick's eyebrows rose as he laughed louder, slipping from the chair to the ground so he was beside the boy. He quirked an eyebrow up suggestively as he prodded Jason's side.

"Do you now?" Dick grinned as the boy yelped and swatted at him. That only caused him to persist, snatching Jason by the shoulders and catching him in a headlock. "Sounds to me like Jaybird's got a crush on Babs!"

"Agh!" Jason squirmed and kicked, though he was laughing himself. "Me? _I've_ got a crush on her? Can you define denial for me?"

"Not nial?" Dick offered. "Jay, I've been friends with Barbara since like… well, pretty much as long as I've been in Gotham! It's not like that between us."

Jason scoffed, his eyes rolling up at Dick in the darkness, and he lurched forward, flinging Dick over his head. He landed with a soft gasp on his back, and he grinned as he dodged Jason's fists as they tried to catch his chest. "Jay," he gasped through his laughter, wincing as the boy caught his ribs with his bony knuckles.

"I'll admit," Jason said after calming down, and flopping down on his back beside Dick. "Babs is really hot. But I dunno if I wanna ruin the _asterous_ relationship you two have."

Dick sat up and stared down at the boy, a large, goofy grin on his lips. "You just said it! You used one of my words!"

Jason rolled his eyes and turned onto his side so he wouldn't have to look at Dick's silly expression. "Yeah," Jason said. "Ironically. I was making fun of you, Dickie, not being serious with it."

"I don't care." Dick smiled brightly. "You said one of my words."

"You're a tool."

* * *

By the time school started, Dick had gone to Barbara Gordon's window five times since his promise in the hospital. Only two out of those five was he Dick Grayson. Still, she didn't seem to mind either way. She trusted Dick more than Nightwing, but she smiled coyly at him either way, never inviting him past the lintel. In fact, it took three visits for her to pop the metal screen that divided their faces out of the window, just so they could speak without the obstacle obscuring their faces.

"Hey BG," he whispered, poking the screen until it rattled. He prodded at it until her face appeared behind the porous metal, broken apart by tiny holes. Still, he saw her eyes in the glow of the street lamp, and her smile as she tilted her head. "I've got something for you."

"Oh?" She shifted her position, the springs in her mattress squeaking quietly. He leaned against her window frame, his knees resting on the sill as late summer rain drizzled all around them, pattering softly against the rusted fire escape. "Gosh, Nightwing, you sure spoil me. None of you have lectured me in nearly a week! Is it a taser?"

"No. What is with you and tasers? Do you really want one that badly?" He smirked as she reached up, her fingers flicking the locks on the metal screen, and she carefully pried it from the window. It rattled softly as she rested it on the floor. He saw that her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, flared out at the crown of her head in messy red curls that slid forward as she moved, bouncing ceaselessly. Dick didn't know what it was about red hair. For the longest time, his best friends were three redheads: Babs, Wally, and Roy. Kaldur had been the oddity to jump in late, but those three had been the most influential friendships he had made in his early life, post-circus.

"Yes," she replied, her fingers drumming softly against the windowsill. "Is Robin lurking around out there too? Are you two going to try and bar my windows again?"

"That was a joke!" Kind of. They'd been running out of ideas to shake Barbara off, so they tried a more interesting approach. It hadn't worked.

"I'm not Harry Potter, okay, you can't pull that stuff on me." Barbara scowled, her eyes narrowing at him, judging him. "But seriously, is he out there? I don't want you guys to be all creepy and Bat-like with me outside my window. Anywhere else, I get, but not here."

"I'll remember that." Dick smirked, resting his head against the top of the window frame, watching her glare at him as he got a little too close to crossing the line into her bedroom. "No, Rob's with Batman. I'm all alone tonight."

"Hmm," she hummed, leaning away from the window. "I knew you'd come around, Nightwing. Guess you just can't deny my charm."

"Hey, I'm not asking you to patrol with me," he laughed. She rolled her eyes.

"Really? Darn. And here I thought we were going to have a real sleepover. Braiding hair, talking about boys—"

"Not quite," Dick said, amused. "Though, I would take you up on the sleepover bit— that is if you ever actually let me in your room."

That seemed to make her uncomfortable. Yeah, she was fine with flirting with Nightwing. Until it came down to letting the strange masked boy into her bedroom. All in all, Barbara was still smart enough to keep him at a distance, and he admired that. "I'm joking," he assured her. He watched her visibly relax, and look around sheepishly. "So, do you want my gift?"

"Depends," she said. "I still have a bunch of those batarangs— did I ever thank you for those? Well, thanks. They're pretty useful."

"You're welcome." Nightwing dragged the box closer to him, setting it carefully on his lap. Jason had wanted to be with them when he gave it to her, but it wasn't his fault Batman wanted Robin with him tonight. He smiled as she stared at it, her eyes going wide, most likely because it was a real gift, all wrapped up with ribbon and a bow. "What? Have you never seen a present before?"

"No, it's just…" She faltered, and she pressed her lips together nervously, her eyes flitting quickly to her door. "I wasn't expecting it to be… a real present. It's weird. I don't really know you."

"Oh, please. We've been flying together. We might as well make a blood oath." Nightwing grinned and held out the box to her. She stared at it, looking uncertain and a little frightened.

"Look… Nightwing, I don't think…"

"Take it," he insisted, forcing it into her hands. She stared at him, her fingers tightening slowly around the tightly wrapped package, chipped red nails brushing his gloves. "It's a birthday present from me and Robin."

"How did you—?"

"Detective." He rolled his eyes and gestured to himself, causing her to laugh cynically.

"Yeah, okay. Might as well have said 'stalker'. Stalker." She smiled though, fingering the ribbon curls gently with a strange fascination. When she tentatively began to unwrap it, Nightwing stood up and flipped over the side of the fire escape, clinging to the bottom of it and curling into a crouch as he listened to the sound of paper tearing. Then he heard her gasp.

"But this is—!" She cut herself off, probably realizing Nightwing was no longer with her. "Oh."

He smiled and took off, springing quietly into the night. Bruce might yell at him later, but Jason had been right. If they weren't going to stop Barbara, they needed to make sure she didn't get herself caught or killed. Still, her birthday wasn't actually until midnight, which was only an hour or so away.

He leapt from building to building, keeping an eye out for trouble. The night was chilly, the faint taste of autumn and death creeping across the Gotham horizon. School had arrived, and the temperature was dropping, and life went on without a hitch. Missions were deployed, Jason still stayed in Gotham, and the Team grew a mile a minute. Since the arrival of Aquagirl, Tempest, and Beast Boy, Bumblebee— that was, Karen Beecher, a friend of Conner and M'gann— had made an appearance. She was funny, and snippy, and she seemed to enjoy working with the team a lot. Apparently something had happened during Conner and M'gann's first week of their senior year, and that was how Karen had found out about the Team. Also, her boyfriend. But they were still trying to convince him that he didn't need to be with Karen during missions, because he'd only hinder the progress.

His communicator buzzed softly, and Nightwing smirked as Robin's voice rang in his ear. "_Rob to Wing_," he said, "_Scarecrow's finally giving us a show. Just a heads up_."

Nightwing pressed his finger to his ear, nodding a little to himself. "Got it. Need an extra pair of hands?"

"_Um_…" Robin paused, and Nightwing knew he was looking to Batman for instruction. "_Not yet. We're kind of just following the carnage right now, but I'll radio you when we find him. Oh! And be careful. On your own, I mean_."

"I will." Nightwing smiled as he listened to the soft rustle of a cape against the wind, and he turned around. She was watching him with large eyes, her fingers taut around the tick fabric of the cape, and in one hand she held out a small holocomputer. Yeah, maybe they'd gone a little overboard. Batman was going to hang their skins in the Batcave for this… but he didn't really care. Nightwing twisted his communicator in his ear, fiddling with it until he felt it click. He'd cut off Batman from listening for a few minutes. "But I'm not alone."

That earned a laugh from his younger brother, though it was faint and a little envious. Nightwing grinned and flicked the com off, folding his arms across his chest as she stood stonily at the edge of the building, one foot still on the fire escape. She looked unsure, and apprehensive at best, but there was something else glowing in her face as she took a step toward him. Gratitude.

"You didn't have to—"

"Yeah, I did." He shrugged, smirking at her as she fiddled with the end of the cape nervously, eyes wide and confused. Jason and Dick had managed to procure an entire batsuit for their friend in secret. It had taken weeks, but Dick knew how to get around Bruce's careful eye, and by the time he figured it out, it would be much too late. Now she looked like she belonged on the roof, the material of the suit fitting her every curve, and the bat on her chest was muted, but still very much there. She had a real cowl, pronged and shiny and new. There had been much debate, but Jason and Dick had decided to allow Barbara's eyes to be visible. They figured she'd like it better that way.

"I've been fighting with you guys over this for…" She laughed, shaking her head fast. "You know, it's been over a month I think? Why now? Why do you accept me now?"

"Well… Rob and I like you, BG. We appreciate what you're trying to do for Gotham, even though you're pretty sucky at it."

"Gee, thanks." Barbara rolled her eyes. "And… Batman?"

Nightwing watched her, keeping himself very still. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked away, scowling at the ground. "Yeah, I thought so."

"It takes a while for Batman to warm up to anybody," he said, hoping to assure it. It didn't. She only looked even more dejected. "Look, don't worry about him. Personally, I think he secretly likes the idea of you seeking justice in unorthodox ways. He just doesn't like the idea of… well, you. Getting hurt, mostly, or maybe he just hates the idea of dragging another kid into all this. I wish I could tell you what goes on in his head, but really… he's a mystery."

"I've noticed." She sighed, fiddling with the holographic computer in her palm, and she looked up at him. "So… I can patrol with you? Seriously?"

_You need to train_, Dick thought. _Desperately. I shouldn't be letting you out tonight without giving you a lesson. But it's your birthday, officially, so…_

He smiled. "Just do _exactly_ what I say. If I tell you to run, you run. That means even if I'm hurt, or about to get captured."

"But…"

"Exactly as I say, or I'm confiscating the suit."

She glared at him, and she stalked up to his side, tucking the holocomputer into the utility belt they had given her. She took a deep breath, her eyes flickering across the cityscape, bright and wild and awestruck. Still, she was bothered by him, he could tell. She didn't seem to know whether or not she wanted to trust him. She trusted Robin and Batman, because they were Robin and Batman, and she knew them by their names and their tales, but Nightwing was a stranger. He was a boy who had come into her life without an invitation and given her the thing she wanted most, and she probably hated him for that. She didn't trust him, not fully, and it hurt a little more than it should have.

"Okay," she said. "But only if you… help me get better. At this hero thing, I mean."

"Deal." He smiled, pulling his grappling gun from his waist. She perked up at the sight of it, and he grinned broadly, aiming and shooting it. He turned to her, giving he a sweeping bow, his body balancing on the building's skinny ledge. "Shall we go, m'lady?"

That had earned a laugh from her, though she looked confused. "Together, Romeo?" she asked, playfully swatting his arm away. "Don't I have one of those… somewhere in one of these pockets?"

"Yeah, well they take some getting used to. I'll teach you how to use it when we have more time— also, training means no patrolling. This is a one time thing until you can use that suit properly, kay?"

"That isn't fair!" Barbara took a step away from him, but when she noticed the look he was giving her, she seemed to relent. "I can fight…"

"Not well enough." Nightwing held out a hand, which she glared at warily for a few moments before sighing. She took it, allowing him to spin her into his arms and adjust his grip so his arm was around her waist. She reached up and grabbed the gun, her gloved fingers sliding over his, and she smiled excitedly. "Ready?"

She nodded. They'd done this quite a few times before, so it was becoming a natural feeling to have the girl holding onto him as they both pushed off from the building, sailing through the night with the ease of some kind of bird. When they paused on the topsides of buildings, Nightwing would begin to explain the uses of her utility belt. Some part of him knew this was troubling, the idea that Barbara was becoming… well, a Bat. The thing was, she didn't need Batman's blessing. She could do it. Dick knew she could.

After about an hour of quiet patrolling and harmless teasing, Nightwing realized there was something wrong. He could hear the softness of breath against a mask, scratchy and heavy, and immediately Nightwing reached out, tugging Barbara hard. She fell back against his chest, gasping in surprise as a dart whizzed past where she had been standing seconds before. She blinked up at Nightwing, thanking him silently, and she looked around for the source of the dart. He was still in the shadows, but he was watching, searching, assessing their movements carefully. Nightwing gripped Barbara's arms a little tighter.

"Nightwing," she murmured. "What—?"

"Scarecrow," he stated, his eyes narrowing as the man lurched from the darkness, his face masked by the horrible, burlap inspired sack that was stitched and ugly and fearsome. He heard Barbara let out a little breath, her eyes widening as she took in the psycho's appearance. The last big name villain she had faced was Ivy— who wasn't super big on Arkham's crazy list. In fact, she was only kept there when she was caught in Gotham. If Ivy was apprehended anywhere else, by anyone other than Batman, she went straight to Belle Reve. Scarecrow, however, was actually insane. Dangerously insane.

"I know you," chuckled the man behind the mask. "It's been a bit of time, mind you, but I know you. The Boy Wonder isn't so boyish anymore."

"Please tell me he's not going to give a lecture," Barbara breathed against Nightwing's neck. "Can't we just fight him?"

"Shh," he whispered. "Don't be so eager to fight."

"And a Girl Wonder as well. I see, Robin, I see…" The man's chuckles grew louder, his voice rasping and knowing and crawling in Dick's ears, hissing softly and scratching at his thoughts, gnawing at his heart. He held Barbara tighter to his chest, his muscles going rigid.

"Robin?" Barbara whispered. "You?"

"The first," Nightwing explained hastily. "Not important right now."

"Oh. Right." Barbara pried herself from his grasp, her fingers already digging through one of the pockets of her new utility belt. By the time she'd produced three batarangs, Nightwing had already flung six, and was whirling around Scarecrow, careful not to get stuck by his pitchfork. Briefly Nightwing wondered where Scarecrow kept the weapon, but the only logical thing he could come up with was time lord pockets.

Nightwing kicked Scarecrow back, flipping away from him as he flung several darts his way. This was nothing but play, Nightwing knew. Scarecrow was holding out until Batman got there… or…

"Batgirl!" Nightwing gasped, diving over Scarecrow's head as he whacked his friend in the stomach with the staff of his pitchfork, knocking her back against the building's ledge. He rolled to a stop and reached out, his heart pounding as she tripped over the sharp edge, her body falling backwards. He saw her already moving into a position where she'd be able to control her body, but luckily he caught her first. He fingers slid around her wrist, and her body halted in its descent toward the ground, almost vertical as her hair and cape flared over the edge of the building. Dick felt a wave of déjà vu. By the bewildered stare she was giving him, she felt it too.

Nightwing pulled her to her feet, watching as she took a deep breath and dove away as more darts were thrown their way. He slid away from Scarecrow, his finger to his ear as he switched on his communicator again. He watched Barbara weave around the darts and jump kick the Arkham escapee right in the face.

"Scarecrow," he gasped, pressing against his com. He smiled at Barbara, who had wrenched the pitchfork away from him and smacked him in the ribs. "Engaging."

"_Tracking your signal_," Batman replied. "_Robin_—"

"No!" Nightwing gasped, as Scarecrow tossed a pellet at Barbara. She dodged it, and it landed beside her. "BG, move!"

She did. But she wasn't fast enough. Nightwing snatched a gasmask from his waist, jamming it over his mouth as he fought his way through the cloud of fear gas that bloomed from the little pellet, enveloping Barbara in seconds. Regret bubbled in his chest, and he wanted to slap himself for bringing her out tonight. He could hear her startled gasp, soft whimpering at first, that grew louder and louder until her screams were the only thing he could hear.

When the gas cleared, he felt himself freeze. Barbara was still screaming, her body writhing and squirming, but now she was in Scarecrow's grasp, his fingers in her hair, and he rocked her side to side, showing her off to Nightwing. A batarang was already in hand, but there was nothing he could do, not when he was using her as a human shield. He could see her eyes, big and horrorstruck as the drug took full effect, turning her worst nightmares into a reality.

"Let her go," Nightwing growled.

"Oh?" Scarecrow pulled Barbara up, and she kicked the air wildly, twisting and clawing angrily, fearfully, screaming all the way. Then Scarecrow grabbed her by the neck and stuck her out over the edge, her feet dangling dangerously in midair as the wind caught her cape and her hair, dancing and howling and carrying a drizzle of rain and screams. "Okay. I'll let her go."

"No!" Nightwing swore to himself, his body itching to leap forward and punch Scarecrow so hard that his mask would permanently be stuck inside the crater that was left of his face.

"Come now, Robin," Scarecrow said, his voice slithering against the catacombs of Nightwing's mind, and it took a lot for him not to wince. "I know you. I know what you fear. This is it, isn't it? I can see it in your face, hear it in your voice— you fear flight, and you fear falling. You fear your own failure… and you fear for your little bird. Should I go on? Is this enough for you? I don't need fear gas for you, when it's so simple to see you squirm. Listen to her scream, and tell me if I'm wrong. If you lie, I'll drop her."

He did listen to her scream. They were strangled and harsh, and she kicked helplessly at open air. Barbara wasn't helpless, though, and that's what made this all the more disturbing. This was his fault. If Barbara had been trained before this encounter, she could have defended herself better. He'd been thoughtless and stupid. He deserved whatever lecture he was getting from Bruce later.

"You're not wrong," Nightwing said, his voice raw. No. He was far from wrong. In fact, he was entirely right, and that scared him almost as much as Barbara's choking screams as she dangled from Scarecrow's extended arm.

Scarecrow sounded amused. "No," he said, his voice high and drunk on the fear that rolled from both teens, one screaming from a drug, the other locked in utter helplessness. "I thought not."

And then he dropped her.

Nightwing lurched forward, speeding to the edge as Scarecrow moved fast to apprehend him. Nightwing slipped his grasp easily and dove over his head, planting his hands on the man's shoulders and pushing off, allowing him to build momentum as he leapt over the side of the building. He ditched the gasmask, reaching, reaching, his eyes on the flutter of yellow and whip of red as it sailed through the air. He caught her, his arms tightening around her flailing body as he rolled them in midair, sending them spiraling into a ratty awning. He held her closer, trying to hush her screams as his their bodies tore through the canopy, and he landed painfully against a metal table, his back connecting with it and knocking it over, sending him toppling onto his head.

He groaned, blinking away stars as he looked down at Barbara. She was safe, luckily, and he'd taken in most of the impact. He had been too late in the fall to pull his grappling gun, and he had been too panicked to think of anything else. His head was pounding now, and her screams were dying into soft gasps, whimpers, as the drug grew worse and worse, silencing her to mute horror. He searched his belt for the pouch that kept all the antidotes— to Joker Venom, fear gas, Ivy's mojo, etc. He pulled out a vial, and a syringe that bore a resemblance to an epipen, and he slid the vial full of frothy solution into a slot. It clicked, and he took a deep breath, pulling her closer to him. Her head lolled in the crook of his arm, and he winced at the sight.

"Please work," he whispered, praying Scarecrow hadn't changed the recipe of his gas. He stabbed the syringe into her arm, thankful that it was made to pierce Bat armor, and he watched in silence as the little vial drained. Then, she went silent, and her body went limp, and her breath rattled softly against his chest as he cradled her. He could hear fighting from above, a signal that Batman had arrived.

He took a deep breath, finally figuring that the cure had worked, and he stood up, his muscled objecting vehemently to the action. She stirred, groaned, and she took a few deep breaths as she rested her forehead against his chest. He began to move then, quickly slipping into the night before anyone dropped down from the building above.

"Dick…?" she mumbled into his chest. He froze, skidding to a stop and staring down at her. She wasn't looking at him, but he could hear her breathing, feel the heat of her gasps against his neck. "I… feel really bad— why…?"

"Shh," he said. He shook his head, hoping to clear it of all his jumbled thoughts and guilt and confusion. "Shut up, Babs. I need to make sure you've got all of the toxin out of your system."

"Mmm…" she replied. "You… why didn't you…?"

"Shut up, Babs."

She did. She curled up against him, looking a little dazed and plenty confused, but she allowed him to carry her, and said not another word about his identity. He knew how she had figured it out. It had been obvious from the look in her eyes when he'd caught her by the wrist that she recognized this action. She recognized him. It was only a matter of time, and it didn't matter now. He was already in a shit ton of trouble.

* * *

He got back to the Batcave before Bruce and Jason. That gave him enough time to scan Barbara for any excess fear toxins, as well as prepare her for Bruce's wrath. He also made sure to warn her that the suit was _only_ from him, not Robin, no matter what he said before. She agreed quietly, though she looked a little peeved about it. He'd taken his communicator out to avoid explaining things, but eventually he sent the message that he was safe back at the cave. Just so they wouldn't worry.

"I knew it," she mumbled, hugging her cape around herself. She seemed to have a perpetual chill.

Dick had peeled his mask away after much prodding from her, and the small smile on her lips was a little startled and shaken. Her cowl had been pushed back, and she was sitting on a table he'd cleared off to lay her on until she got her senses back. After a few minutes of strained silence, Dick called Alfred to bring down a hot chocolate.

When he appeared with a tray, he took one look at Barbara, and he tilted his head. "Master Richard," he said, "I do believe you are going to be subject to punishment."

"I know, Alf," Dick said quietly. "Do me a favor, though. Don't be down here when it happens. I don't want you to get in trouble too."

Alfred stared at him for a few moments, his old eyes looking tired, and sad. "Of course, sir," he said, smiling gently. He set the cup down beside Barbara and left the cave without another word.

"Bruce," Barbara said quietly. "And Jason. Of course it's Jason. That makes so much sense— and you being Robin! Why did I never see that?"

"Maybe you're just oblivious to anything that isn't staring you right in the face?" Dick offered, smirking as she glared at him, gripping her hot chocolate with white knuckles.

"Ha ha ha," she said, venomously. "You are so funny. I cannot contain my laughter."

"So… uh…" Dick shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, ignoring he biting words. "Pretty shitty start to your birthday, huh?"

"No."

"No?" His eyebrows rose as she smiled, taking a sip of her hot chocolate to hide it. "You're crazy, you know that? Absolutely crazy."

"Uh huh, well you used to dress up in scaly underwear and pixie boots. I think I sound pretty sane in comparison." She grinned wickedly up at him as his face flushed, and he groaned, slapping his forehead in exasperation.

"That was for like, four months! And it wasn't my choice! Bruce is really, really shitty at costume designing!"

"Uh huh," she repeated. She looked down, her hair brushing against her pale cheeks. She looked sickened, pallid and scared and tiny, her fingers trembling against the mug, and her eyes flitting around the cave every time a bat screeched or stretched its wings above. "I wish… you would have told me."

"I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, leaning back against one of the many monitors in the room. "I couldn't. It's just… no one is allowed to know. It puts you in danger. It puts us in danger. It's stupid, and selfish, but we can't risk it. We're paranoid, and only human, and we're better off this way. Do you get it?"

"No. I think you should have told me. Asshole." But she was smiling, though it was timid, and she blinked and sighed, her body stiff and unyielding. "This was… a pretty fun start, though."

"What?"

"To my birthday." She rolled her eyes, and smiled a little brighter. "Scary, but… well, it was pretty educational. Now if I ever go up against him again I'll know better."

"You are definitely crazy," Dick laughed. She laughed too, though it sounded a little hollow and shaky. She jumped at the sound of the batmobile as it rolled in, and Dick rested a hand on her shoulder. "I can call Alfred down here to drive you home. You don't have to deal with—"

"Shut up," she hissed. "If you can deal with him, so can I."

Dick smiled bitterly. Well, she'd faced her greatest fears tonight. Batman probably scared her less than an ant at the moment. He looked up as Jason flipped out of the car, running toward them with a baffled expression. He ran his red fingers through his hair, and he looked between the two of them, looking suddenly very relieved.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh. Okay. He was bluffing. That's good."

"Scarecrow?"

Jason nodded mutely, and he stiffened as Batman appeared behind him, glowering down at Dick and Barbara with such intensity, he felt her body go rigid beneath his fingers. He found himself staring at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Barbara, however, was glaring up at him, her eyes dark and challenging. She set down her mug and straightened up.

"Barbara," Batman said. "Alfred will take you home."

"No."

Dick winced, and he felt the need to step away from her, step away from the fire zone, but it was too late. He felt himself moving closer to her, squeezing her shoulder. "Babs—" he whispered.

"No," she repeated, jumping to her feet. Her cape slid with her, dancing around her legs. "Don't blame Dick for this. It was my choice to start doing this, and it was my choice to go out tonight. Oh, and he only took off his mask because I guessed who he was. He's my best friend, it really wasn't that hard."

"Barbara," Batman growled. She looked taken aback for a moment before she regained her composure and continued to glare. "Your recent indiscretions have been subtle at best, but this has gone too far."

"That's not your call," she said quietly. Jason stood on her other side, look up at her sadly.

"Yes. It is." Batman loomed over the three of them, and Dick looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and never come out again. "Dick shouldn't have let you fight tonight. You shouldn't have been out at all. You aren't like us, Barbara, you have no training, and you could have gotten yourself killed."

That made her wince. She took a deep breath, and she shrugged Dick's hand from her shoulder. She stared up at Batman, her eyes alight with some kind of fire that fueled her very existence. She stared at him with fury and determination, and she clenched her fists at her side, her body squaring.

"I can do this," she said. Her voice was thick with exhaustion, but her raw resolve was something to be reckoned with. "People keep telling me that I can't do things— fight crime, be Batgirl, be strong, be a hero— but I can. You can't tell me that I can't, because I don't believe you. I _know_ I can! I know what I want to do with my life, and this is it!"

Batman studied her, his eyes narrowing behind the cowl. "You faced Scarecrow tonight," he said darkly. "He got you."

She averted her eyes quickly, nervously, and she bit her lip. Dick could see she was still weak, and she probably was barely standing on her own. But still, she persisted, and she looked back at him and nodded. "That was a mistake," she said softly. "I'll admit it, I made a mistake. But now I know better."

"Until your next mistake." Batman's voice was cold, and Dick was staring between them wide-eyed and frightened. He didn't know how to help. "Which could easily cost you your life. If Dick hadn't been with you, you'd be dead. I know he's trying to help you, but your best chance is to stop this before you do anymore damage."

"You aren't listening," Barbara spat. She was shaking, and Dick moved forward, his arm hovering around her in case she collapsed. "I'm not going to stop! Do you want the suit back? It won't keep me from doing this. I'll do it without the suit. Nothing you say is going to change my mind!"

Batman was silent for a few moments. Then, slowly, he pressed his hand to his ear. "Call Commissioner Gordon," he growled. Barbara's eyes flew wide, and she shook her head, her legs giving out beneath her. Dick dropped with her, holding her close to him as she stared up at Batman in horror.

"No!" she gasped. "No, please, you can't!"

"Bruce!" Dick cried, finally finding his voice. "Stop it, okay? Don't tell him anything, it'll just make things worse."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, also finding his voice. He looked angry, and he ripped his mask from his eyes, glaring up at Bruce defiantly. "Barbara deserves a chance. You didn't give me this much trouble, and I didn't know anything when I came here! Babs knows how to fight, and she's good at it. Why can't we let her help?"

Dick shot Jason a grateful look, and he gave Barbara's shoulders an encouraging squeeze. She was quivering pretty badly, the aftereffects of the fear toxin still plaguing her. Barbara stared at Bruce, looking terrified and pleading. It was enough. Bruce had paused, his finger still against his communicator. He took a deep breath and slid his cowl back, his dark eyes flashing dangerously at the three children, before he shook his head and put on a signature Bruce Wayne smile. Faint, but coy, with a hint of vapidity.

"Hello, Commissioner," Bruce said, his voice light and airy. They all stared at him blankly. "This is Bruce Wayne."

The three children looked at each other, wide-eyed and uncertain. Bruce shot them each their own glower, which forced Barbara to grip Dick's arms, which were still firmly around her shoulders. Jason simply glared back, while Dick felt incredibly uncomfortable, and he found himself wishing someone would hug him.

"Yes, I know it's late, but I just wanted to inform you that your daughter is here— oh, don't worry. She's fine. A little shaken up, I think, but she's fine. Yes, it was Batman and Robin, I believe. She didn't want to go home to an empty apartment, Jim, you can't blame her— please don't worry, she's perfectly fine. She's sleeping right now, and I insist she stay the night. Yes, I realize it's a school night. Don't worry, Commissioner, she'll be in school tomorrow with Dick and Jason. I promise you, I will personally see her to school in the morning. No, please don't bother yourself, Jim, she's had a long night, and I think it's best if we just let her sleep. Yes, I'll speak to you in the morning. Thank you."

Bruce sighed as he pulled the communicator from his ear, tossing it onto the table beside the mug. He looked down at the three children who stared up at him in awe and fear. Bruce looked directly at Barbara, and his frown deepened. "Every night, six sharp," Bruce said. "You'll have proper training alongside Dick and Jason— and you _won't_ be going on anymore patrols until further notice. Got it?"

Barbara nodded eagerly, her eyes large with wonder and surprise. She was smiling suddenly, and she looked like she wanted to hug him. Of course, she didn't, but she might have. She looked up at Dick, wide-eyed and excited as he helped her to her feet. As they moved away from Bruce, Barbara twisted her head and kissed Dick on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes bright. "This was the best birthday present ever."

* * *

_To think I wanted to be done with this story by the tenth chapter. Okay, okay, first things first. How the hell did I do with Scarecrow, because I was literally making up his entire personality from scratch. Maybe he could have been crazier? I wanted him to have this creepy all knowing vibe to him, like, ooooh, yes, i know your deepest fears because i am a psychologist. i imagine he tells that to himself often, like how when people mimic Dick they say 'I'M AN ACROBAT!'_

_Trying to remember the timeline. So... almost autumn 2012? Tim doesn't join the team until 2015. So I've got a ways to go still (I don't plan on going that far in the story, but it's a good marking point). I'd also like to point out that Greg said it was early in 2015, which means Tim was on the team almost an entire year before he lead a squad for a mission. And he STILL questioned himself. _

_I'm going to add Barbara as one of the characters for this story, because she's going to be pretty damn important from here on out. And Jason doesn't have a character thing. Which depresses me._

_Soo... Review, please? =]_


	11. Nothing Like Overkill

**fall and fail**

**{nothing like overkill}**

"You know, I'm pretty sure you two could put Batman and Catwoman to shame— which is saying something, because I'm pretty sure they consider half their fights to be dates."

"Shut up, Jason," Dick hissed, bending back as Barbara's leg nearly caught his face. She slid beside him, her fist connecting rather painfully with one of his ribs, but he hooked his arm around hers, yanking her off balance. She easily slipped away from him, flipping into a handspring and spiraling on her hands, catching him once again in the chest. As he fell back, he curled into and a bridge, pushing himself into a flip with both his hands clapping against the floor as he dodged and parried, his body moving fast to intercept hers. She was a faster learner than Jason.

Jason was hanging upside-down from a bar, watching with a smirk as his elders fought to trump the other. Three months into Barbara's training, and she was as good as Jason was in almost a year. Dick knew that Bruce was going to have to let her patrol soon, or else they were wasting potential. She was fast, and she was strong, and she was clever. Her photographic memory allowed her to have an advantage over all of them, easily figuring out which moves they liked to use the most, and putting that to her own skills to topple them. She had yet to beat Bruce, but she'd crushed Jason and Dick too many times to count.

Dick blinked as her leg slipped behind the crook of his knee, and he gasped as he slid backwards, his legs locked by hers, and he winced as his spine connected to the ground. Before she could pin him down, however, he grinned at her and flipped her over his head, rolling easily and catching her by the shoulders, slamming her back against the ground before she could sit up. He flung himself over her, smirking as she glared and objected, squirming as he straddled her waist.

"Pinned ya, Gordon," he laughed, as she pushed at his chest, craning her neck to keep her face farther from his. She was blushing, and it was funny, but he didn't quite understand why she was so uncomfortable. They've done this a million times before. Why was she so squirmy now?

"I can see what's happening," Jason sang, appearing above them with a wily smirk. "And they don't have a clue!"

"What?" Barbara asked, blinking as she shoved Dick off of her, ignoring his laughter as his legs untangled from her waist. Jason rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest as he looked between them incredulously.

"The Lion King," Dick sighed. Jason nodded.

"Yeah, you know, the film about two best friends who bicker all the time, and have domination issues, and you know, I'm pretty sure they fuck in the end, but I'm not sure, it's kind of unclear—"

"Jason," Dick warned, glaring at the younger boy as he morphed his smirk into an innocent smile. He could feel Barbara laughing beside him, but he ignored it. "You really need to drop that."

"Yeah," Barbara agreed, sitting up. She pulled her hair out of a loose ponytail, running her fingers through it to rid it of tangles. "Dick and I aren't… well, like _that_."

"Yep," Jason said, rolling his eyes. "You keep saying that, but let's be real. You guys are way too touchy-touchy to be 'just friends'."

Barbara and Dick glanced at each other confusedly, and he felt his own face heat up. "Sorry? It's a training exercise, Jay. We kind of have to touch each other."

"And we keep saying it because it's true," Barbara said. She stood up, frowning down at Jason as he shrugged, rocking on the balls of his feet as he smiled to himself. "Do you want to fight now, Jason?"

"Yes!" Jason grinned, pushing Dick back to the ground when he moved to stand up. "But please, no straddling, I don't think I'm ready for that type of relationship yet."

Dick buried his face in his hands, not sure how to properly respond to Jason's intrepidity. He was going to be a terror when he actually started dating girls. He would be like a cross between Wally, who was a constant flirt, but never actually pursued a relationship until Artemis, and Bruce, who was kind of notorious for getting into screwed up relationships without really trying. Dick didn't know where he stood on the spectrum. Zatanna had been… a long and interesting experience, and they still sort of had a thing. Sometimes. He didn't really know how to explain it, and it was strange, but they were strange too. And he didn't want to think about his failed relationship with Raquel. They were still friends, of course, but the entire 'dating' thing hadn't lasted very long, and that was okay. She didn't seem to mind much, and he really only just felt guilt for the whole thing.

He decided to leave the room instead of watch his younger brother and his good friend fight themselves bloody. Which they had. Numerous times, actually, which worried Dick a little, but they knew when to stop. They were both a little too aggressive, and they matched each other, so a lot of the times the situation ended up being something akin to a kindergarten squabble. Hair pulling and scratching. Of course, one time Jason had cracked one of Barbara's ribs, and they were all forbidden from sparring for a week.

Being a teenager was so weird. It was so stupid. Why should he care about dating and silly stuff like that when he was a superhero? He didn't want to. Maybe that was what went wrong with Raquel. He had issues with trusting, and when he felt like he was getting too comfortable he distanced himself. It had been his mistake with Zatanna, and he'd made it much too early with Raquel. He wasn't Bruce, and he didn't understand how the man did it. Talia, and Selina, and Diana, and countless others. He didn't like it, and it made him feel guilty and silly and stupid.

After taking a quick shower and changing into normal clothes, he hung himself from a platform and watched, amused as Jason and Barbara continued to fight. When Barbara and Dick fought, it was always playful and teasing. When Barbara and Jason fought, it was like stepping into an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, without as many witty lines. Mostly because they were too focused on beating the crap out of each other.

He blinked as his wrist computer buzzed softly, and he twisted it, watching as Batman's face appeared on the holographic screen. He stood up, gripping the support beam as he turned away from his fighting friends. Batman was on a League mission in Qurac, but it seemed he had something important to say. His eyes glowed behind the whites of his cowl, and he frowned at Dick.

"I was just alerted of several kidnappings in Gotham," Batman said. "Eight boys, pre-pubescent, black haired and blue eyed. I'm sending you the details so you can debrief the Team."

"The Team?" Dick repeated, surprised. "In Gotham? I mean, I know we've been here before, but a kidnapping case isn't exactly…"

"I need the entire Team to deploy and discover who is behind this, as I am currently unable to." Batman's lips twisted in distaste. "Including Batgirl and Robin."

"Seriously?" Dick's eyes narrowed, and he knew that there was more to the case than Batman was saying. Black haired, blue eyed boys… "Okay. We're going right now."

The only thing he got in response was a slight nod. "Batman out," he rumbled, and the screen blinked away. Dick stood for a moment, still a little surprised, and he quickly spun around, leaping over the support beam and dropping down beside the two sparring partners.

"Guys," he called, watching as Barbara flipped backwards, landing easily beside him. She looked at him curiously, kicking Jason away as he dove at her. "We have a mission."

"Huh?" Jason looked puzzled, his brow furrowing. "A mission? Like, a team mission?"

"Like," Barbara continued for him, amused. "We're actually allowed to come with you this time?"

"Yes?" Dick rolled his eyes, clapping them both on the shoulder. "You two have now graduated from trainees to legitimate members of a covert Justice League. Congrats. Now suit up."

"Aw yeah!" Jason cried, spinning around and cartwheeling away, springing out of the training area with a large grin on his face. Barbara watched him curiously, and then she looked up at Dick.

"Do you… think they'll be okay with it? I mean, they don't know me. How can they trust me if they've never met me before? I thought I'd be able to meet them before…" Barbara bit her lip, and she tugged on a piece of her hair nervously. Dick stared at her for a moment, surprised at the insecurity.

"You're a Bat," Dick assured her. He smiled wide, giving her shoulder a squeeze, and he pulled her into a one arms hug. "They'll be fine with you, Babs. Our team is very accepting."

"Okay…" She nodded slowly, pulling away from him and moving quickly after Jason. She had a right to be scared. She knew close to nothing about the Team. All she knew was that Wally and Artemis were on it, and even that wasn't clear to her. She'd been surprised to find out that Dick had helped form a hero team for a younger generation, which tackled huge assignments in comparison to patrol. He knew she loved the idea of it.

After slipping into his Nightwing uniform, he found Jason already waiting by a monitor, bouncing slowly on his feet. He put on his mask as Dick walked out, and he grinned, moving to punch Nightwing in the gut. He was cut off though, and Nightwing grabbed him, pushing him to the ground and laughing as the boy began to flail and whine, growling a little and swearing.

"Are you two serious?" Barbara asked with a sigh. She swept toward them, her cape trailing behind her, and her cowl hanging around her neck. She was pulling her hair back and pinning it in place, carefully ridding her face of strays. Robin elbowed Nightwing in the stomach, hard enough to make him gasp, and he slipped out from under him, grinning madly.

"Jealous, Barb?" Jason asked, wiggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and slid the final pin into place, smoothing her hair back. As Dick watched her, he realized what a pain her hair must be under that cowl. It probably got hot and irritating.

"Not even remotely," Barbara said dryly. She pulled up her cowl, sliding it gingerly over her eyes, and she smiled warmly. She had little chance to put on the suit since her birthday, so this was a rare and wonderful thing. Dick smiled back at her encouragingly. "So, are we going?"

"Yep." Nightwing gestured them toward the zeta tube. Barbara stared at it, looking confused and awed. Jason simply walked past Dick and stepped right through, his cape fluttering behind him. Dick turned to Barbara beckoning her forward. "Ladies first," he joked.

She stared for a moment before she gained her bearings and stepping into the zeta beam, disappearing from view. Dick followed quickly after her. He'd gone over the mission info while changing, and honestly, he didn't understand it. Eight boys, all from social standards ranging from dirt poor to being on the mail list for a Wayne Christmas card. Black haired, small and athletic, blue-eyed, and aged from six to twelve. It confused Dick greatly, because it sounded like someone was looking for… well, him. Or Jason. Dark haired, blue-eyed… Right.

Nightwing was puzzling over this when M'gann's voice pulled him from his thoughts. Nightwing yelped, hurrying forward and prying Beast Boy's skittering bear cub form from Robin's leg. Robin looked as if he wanted to fling the little green bear across the room, but he contained himself, swearing softly under his breath as Beast Boy slipped Nightwing's grasp by turning into a twittering green robin, spinning around Robin's head and landing on his shoulder.

Batgirl watched, taking a few involuntary steps toward Nightwing as she peered at Beast Boy, surprised by the little green child. M'gann quickly put a stop to Garfield's antics, snatching him from Robin's shoulder and frowning at the young boy. Robin simply glared up at the siblings, hunching defensively.

"Gar, that wasn't nice!" M'gann reprimanded. She dropped the bird, and he turned back to his normal, monkey-like form. He laughed brightly, his little body shaking in hysterics. He grinned down at Robin, and he held out a hand.

"Hiya, Rob!" he chirped. "You haven't been around in a while. Like, months."

"Yeah, I know," Robin said slowly, taking Garfield's hand and pulling himself to his feet. He looked disgruntled, but not so much angry anymore. The few times Robin had been to the cave, he always stuck close to Beast Boy or Nightwing, not really trusting anyone else. He didn't like being around Artemis and Wally because he found their enthrallment with each other to be annoying. "Sorry? Blame Batman, I guess."

"Yeah, okay." Garfield rolled his eyes and beamed up at Nightwing. "Hi, Nightwing! You look super serious tonight, what's up? Where's Batman? Who's she?"

M'gann hushed the boy, glancing at Barbara curiously. Then she perked up, and she looked to Nightwing, her eyes bright and her lips drawing into a large, excited smile. "Oh!" she cried, flying to Barbara and landing in front of her. "Are you joining the Team? Nightwing! You didn't tell us Batman had another protégée! Or that she's a girl! This is so amazing, everyone will be so excited to have another girl on the team!"

"I'm pretty sure you guys already outnumber us, Miss M," Nightwing laughed nervously. Barbara looked surprised, her eyes wide as she took in the Martian's excited personality. She smiled a little and nodded to her fellow redhead.

"I'm Batgirl," she said slowly, extending her hand. M'gann took it eagerly, and she spun around, pulling Barbara toward the rest of the Team members. Well, the ones who were around, anyway. Nightwing and Robin followed quickly, not wanting to leave Barbara alone.

"I'm Miss Martian," M'gann said. "M'gann M'orzz. Why didn't Nightwing ever say anything about you?"

"He probably didn't want to admit that he knows someone who's better than him at— well, everything." Barbara smirked, meeting Nightwing's eye and winking. He shook his head, frowning at her. He wasn't hurt or anything, he just was a little bothered by it. And it was sort of true, which sucked.

"You're not better than me at everything," Nightwing said.

"Yeah, he still _pinned ya_ today, BG," Robin cackled, earning a sharp shove from Nightwing.

"Um, ignoring Robin," Nightwing said. He looked around the room and saw that all the members who lived at the cave were there, as well as Rocket and Bumblebee. Artemis and Wally were missing, but Dick had a feeling they were together anyway. "We have a mission from Batman. I'll debrief all of you when Wally and Artemis get here. Until then, get to know Batgirl. She and Robin will be joining us for this mission."

"Three Bats?" Zatanna asked, tilting her head. Her eyes danced between the three of them, and she grinned. "What's the occasion? I feel kind of spoiled here. Oh, I'm Zatanna, by the way!"

"The mission is in Gotham," Nightwing said.

"So?" Conner frowned. "We've been to Gotham before with just you."

"Superboy, right?" Barbara asked. Conner looked at her and nodded. "Okay. Well, Superboy, trust me when I say that three Bats? Still not enough to cover all of Gotham."

"That's true," Robin piped up. "Gotham still sucks, and three of us patrol already."

"And it will probably always suck," Nightwing sighed. "Not the point though. Gotham is our territory, and our home. We know it better than all of you, and we're not sure exactly what we're dealing with."

"Then will you be leading this mission, Nightwing?" Kaldur asked, looking curious. Nightwing smiled at him. So hopeful that he could pass on the leader mantle.

"Sort of." Nightwing shrugged. "I'll explain more when—"

_Recognizing Kid Flash: B03_

_Recognizing Artemis: B07_

"— when Wally and Artemis get here." Nightwing sighed, smiling a little as his two close friends walked into the room, looking a little surprised.

"Hey, what's the deal?" Wally asked. "We have a miss— wait, is Batman a girl?"

Robin and Nightwing glanced at each other, rolling their eyes, while Barbara turned to face him. She smiled at Artemis, who recognized her immediately, her dark eyes widening. "It's nice to see you again too, Wally," Barbara said. "And yes. I am a girl."

"What are you— I mean, why did you say anything?" Artemis asked, her eyes flitting between Nightwing and Barbara. Wally zoomed up to her, studying her costume with one hand cupping his chin. He pulled on her cape, earning a glare from Barbara, and she tore it away from him.

"This is eerie," Wally said. "It's like, you look at her and you think, aha! Batman! But no, she's female. She looks female. So weird."

"You… know each other?" Tula asked, leaning over a couch to peer at them all. Her short red hair framed her faintly freckled face, and she looked very curious.

"We go to school together," Barbara explained. "Well, me and Artemis, at least. I know Wally because he helped me save a friend of mine a few months ago."

Wally winced at the memory. "Right, right, so… you're like… a Bat now? Dude, I'm getting super tired of you neglecting to tell me when you start training new kiddies!"

"Sorry," Nightwing said, moving toward the monitor without really listening to Wally as he continued to rant to Barbara. He seemed oblivious to the rest of the Team, who watched them with looks of confusion and wonder. "Okay, we can have real introductions on the bio-ship. We've wasted enough time."

"Are all of us really going on this mission?" Bumblebee asked, tilting her head. "Don't you think that's a little bit of an overkill?"

"Might be we need overkill," Nightwing replied. He turned to them, pulling up pictures of the eight missing boys. "Tonight these kids were all taken from Gotham. Nothing connects them but their hair and eye color, the youngest of the bunch being six, the oldest twelve. Every big name Gotham villain is accounted for in Arkham, so this is someone who is most likely trying to stir things up. Our mission is to find these eight boys and rescue them— also, find out who had the gall to take them in the first place."

"Do we know where they are?" Artemis asked.

"Yeah. That's something Batman managed to figure out." However, the mysterious kidnapper still eluded them. It was going to be one hell of a show, Nightwing could just tell. "We'll be splitting up into three squadrons. Alpha will be led by Aqualad, with Aquagirl, Tempest, Rocket, Bumblebee, and Miss M. The building is right on the harbor, so you'll have plenty of water to work with, while Rocket, Bumblebee, and Miss Martian will search the air for our suspect. I'll lead Beta with Batgirl, Robin, and Superboy. We'll be getting the captives out safely, and as quietly as possible. They'll trust us the most because they're Gotham kids. They see Robin and a bat symbol, and they'll go with it. They'll trust Superboy by default, and we'll need his strength. Gamma will be led by Artemis with Kid Flash, Zatanna, and Beast Boy. The building we're going into is incredibly unsound, and can collapse at any moment. You four will be stationed around the perimeter of the building and given equipment to help ensure it won't collapse while we're inside."

"Wait, what?" Artemis stared at him, her mouth dropping open in shock. "Why am I leading anything? Wouldn't Wally be more qualified? Hell, wouldn't _Zatanna_ be more qualified?"

"Aw, babe," Wally laughed, nudging her. "Don't second guess yourself. You can totally lead three of us. Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," she snapped at him. "Just… surprised. I guess."

"Don't be." Nightwing smiled at her, pulling away from the computer to face her fully. "You'll do fine. Just don't let the building collapse on top of us, and everything will be great!"

"Nightwing!" Barbara and Artemis hissed in unison. They glanced at each other, smiling a little. Robin stared at him, shaking his head, and he turned to Garfield, whispering something to the green boy. Gar grinned in response, hiding a snicker behind his hand.

They left after that, filing into the bio-ship as the girls of the team flocked around Batgirl, chattering excitedly. They'd never known a female Bat before, and their curiosity seemed to get the better of them. Barbara was being strangely quiet, though speaking softly when asked about training, how long she's been Batgirl, how long she's known Nightwing. He noticed how surprised they were when they found out they've known each other since they were nine, and when she mentioned that she was his oldest friend, they all looked at him. It seemed they had always thought Wally was his oldest friend. He found that funny, and so did the speedster, but he also felt strangely uncomfortable. He didn't want them to know that Barbara had been the first friendship he'd made after his parents had died, not counting Bruce or Alfred.

Robin was not quite as popular. He sat next to Nightwing, glaring at Beast Boy every so often as the ten year old tossed chicken whizees at him. It became something like a game, Beast Boy throwing bits over Aqualad's and Tempest's heads, seeing if he could actually hit Robin. He never did, and Robin ended up giving the small pile of food he'd collected to Kid Flash.

When they were nearly to Gotham, Robin turned to Nightwing and whispered, "Whoever this guy is… he's looking for us, isn't he?"

"We don't know that."

Robin gave him a look. It was a long, irritated glance that told Nightwing, _'you're joking, or you're an idiot'._ "What if it's… _the_ guy?"

Nightwing felt himself go rigid, the scars that marred his stomach tingling in a ghost pain that shot up his abdomen. He stared forward, feeling nausea stir up within him. "What makes you ask that?"

Robin shrugged. He looked down at his lap, his jaw setting in anger as he inhaled sharply through his nose. "It's like someone wants our attention. If he wanted to get to us again, this would be a good chance."

Nightwing did not reply. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared because… Robin could be right. That would make this entire mission his fault. The kidnapping of those boys, and any harm that came to them. And the more he thought about it, the more it made terrible sense, and he hated it. He hated that Robin had figured it out before him, and he hated that he might have to face the assassin again. He hated the thought that he might fail.

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. This assassin— he was only a man. Like Nightwing, or Batman… and he could fail too.

"Nightwing, take the controls," Miss M commanded as the straps around his chest melted away. He stood up, switching with her and resting his fingers against the glowing white orbs. He felt the bio-ship whir softly, responding brightly to his touch, recognizing his influence. Miss M stood beside Rocket, and Bumblebee floated beside them, looking up as the ceiling of the bio-ship peeled back. A chunk of the floor also dispersed, and Aqualad, Aquagirl, and Tempest all stood around it.

"Alpha departing," Aqualad said, not looking at anyone as he dove from the bio-ship's hatch. Aquagirl waved goodbye to the fliers, as well as the other girls, and she dove after him, leaving Tempest. Garth tilted his head back at Nightwing, frowning a little.

"You will be careful, won't you?" He looked worried, though Nightwing didn't know why. He liked Garth, but he wasn't someone he knew exceptionally well.

Nightwing nodded anyway. "You too, Tempest. Now get going before Aqualad and Aquagirl ditch you."

Tempest grinned and leapt from the floor hatch, just as the fliers swept away from the ceiling. When they were safely out of range, Nightwing, mentally commanded the bio-ship to move toward land, and it obeyed without hesitation, moving swiftly toward the warehouse that was settled very close to the harbor. It was November, and chilly, and the wind whipped softly as Nightwing lowered the bio-ship toward the ground.

"Gamma team," he ordered. Artemis stood, Kid Flash following her, and then Zatanna and Beast Boy (who'd taken the form of a falcon). Artemis readied her bow, and the floor hatch appeared again, peeling back from the ship's body. Kid Flash stopped to bump his knuckles against Nightwing's, nodding to Superboy, winking at Batgirl, and trying in vain to tussle Robin's hair. Zatanna smiled and extended her arms, drawing them through the air and a swift sweeping motion.

"Ekam su ekil a s'noelemahc egalfuomac!" she commanded. Nightwing watched as their bodies seemed to drain of color, their skin tones and the hue of their clothing melting off them and sliding away, leaving them barely visible. Their bodies took the appearance of whatever was behind them, reflecting it back to the eye. Then they disappeared through the hatch, leaving only the Bats and Superboy.

"So…" Robin swiveled his chair to face Nightwing. "The captives?"

"The building has three floors, and a basement. The smartest place to keep them would be the basement, because there are only two entrances. The door on the inside of the building, and a small entry on the southern face of the building. Assuming they're both being guarded, we'll have to take out anyone and anything that might see us. So we'll split up. Robin and I will take the inside entrance while Batgirl and Superboy handle the outside one. If you run into trouble, Kid Flash is stationed on that side of the building, so he'll be right by you."

"That sounds reasonable," Batgirl said. She glanced at Superboy and offered him a small smile. He jerked his chin at her in response. "Our door will be the one we'll use to get the kids out, right?"

"Yep." Nightwing landed the bio-ship, closing his eyes as M'gann linked them all up. Barbara and Jason looked up wildly, surprised by her voice in their heads. "Chill, this is how we communicate on team missions."

"No radio?" Robin asked curiously. He touched his ear, looking confused.

"Only if the mindlink is tampered with. Radios can be easily hacked. I think we all know that from our own experiences."

Robin smirked, obviously remembering his own hacking triumphs. The four of them nodded to each other, exiting the bio-ship and splitting up immediately. In their heads, Artemis and Wally were bickering again, while Beast Boy and Zatanna tried to hush them in reminder that they were on a mission. The air nipped at Nightwing's exposed face, small flurries of snowflakes fluttering around them as the wind whipped harshly against his ears. Nightwing and Robin made their way up the building, never making a sound. Their stealth was commendable, and they were easily inside the building through a first floor window before they knew it. It was dark, and the building creaked softly against the raging winds.

The building was like something you'd see out of a horror movie. All around them sheetrock and chunks of wood littered the floor, the walls boarded hastily, haphazardly, and debris was cluttered in corners. Sharp, spindly steel twisted out from the wall frame, jutting dangerously toward any unsuspecting person who turned too quickly. It was so dilapidated that even Nightwing had trouble navigating the room without stepping on something that would make a horrifically loud crunch. The eerily quiescent building whispered in its shuddering attempt to stay upright. It cried, screamed, shook, the world and wind snarling at it to break and fall and destroy itself, rip itself apart and collapse into itself. But the building stood still, holding itself against the wind, and the weight, and the odds as it trembled in the frigidness of the November night.

They moved quickly, slipping from the first room to the next, a strange hopeless feeling creeping at his spine and stretching harshly around him, pounding against his chest and gnarling around his heart, gnashing and grappling, reaching to devour him whole. It was nothing but human fear, the ambience of the broken building settling inside him and crying out. Paranoia spread all around him, whispers in his ears, fingers tickling his spine, and his ribs, and his throat. Robin was twitchy as well, his head roving wildly every time he heard a soft rustle in the darkness. The skittering of rats was like the scratching of nails against hard wooden floor, desperately clawing, gasping, screeching for escape. It was an odd sort of horror. It was nothing, and it was terrifying. Their minds were suddenly their worst enemies. This was no trick of Klarion, no illusion of fear gas. It was just humanity. It was fear of fear and fearing the darkness, and it was awful.

"_This place is really getting to me_," Robin thought, after freezing for a moment and carefully looking behind him, staring into the abysmal darkness for a little longer than he should have.

"_Yeah, I'm getting it too. It's like when you're little, and you're trying to sleep, and you know that there's nothing in your room, but something keeps you awake anyway, but you don't want to open your eyes because you're afraid of what you'll see_," Nightwing thought back.

"_The great Nightwing is afraid of the monster under his bed_?" Artemis asked, her voice resonating in their heads.

Nightwing didn't answer. Truth be told, he'd been afraid of the manor at night for years after his arrival. It was almost a nightly thing, laying in bed, his eyes squeezed shut, fear paralyzing him as he tried to tell himself that no one was in his room, nothing was there, they were just shadows, there was no face in his window, the mansion was safe, he was safe, Bruce was there, he wouldn't let anyone hurt him, it was okay. Even when Dick went downstairs to get himself a drink in the middle of the night, he used every conceivable way possible to avoid stepping on the floor, and when he did he'd _run_. He ran like hellhounds were at his heels, and he wouldn't stop until he was back on his bed, curled up beneath his blanket and gasping quietly.

Robin said nothing either. He was staring ahead of him, looking suddenly bitter and angry. Nightmares were a regularity with them, but he was embarrassed and frustrated. It was weak, but they couldn't help it. Life gave them horrors. Their minds twisted them into dreams of screams and blood and twisted, broken bones, stuck out through necks and tearing through flesh. Artemis couldn't know better. But Barbara did.

"_Artemis, don't_." Batgirl sounded fiercely protective, yet apologetic at the same time. "_Are you two alright? We're down here already. A few of the kids were drugged, but there's no one_—" She broke off with a startled gasp, and everyone but Superboy cried out in surprise.

Nightwing shook his head, rushing forward, no longer occupied with being careful to watch his step. He reached the door to the basement, surprised to find it unguarded, and he flung it open. Robin was down the stairwell before Nightwing could register the sight of Batgirl struggling to fight against a masked man. Robin's voice rang indignantly through the mindlink.

"_I told you it was him_."

"_Who_?" Aquagirl asked. He could hear a struggle in her thought process, and he knew she was fighting something. Perhaps the assassin had robots again.

"_No one. Don't get distracted, guys. Deal with whatever is out there. We've got this_." Nightwing flung himself over the rail, slipping behind the man as he grasped Batgirl by the cape, twisting her toward his sword. Superboy was hovering protectively over the kids, some of whom were awake and wide-eyed.

The assassin leapt away from Nightwing's darting leg, tossing Batgirl into him as he slid back, his sword level with his face as he cocked his head. Nightwing caught Barbara easily, flipping back and straightening her. She looked surprised, and her chin was bleeding from a thin cut that ran from her cheek to the tip of it. Robin leapt over the assassin's head, flinging several birdarangs, but the man's sword knocked them away as if they were toys. Robin spiraled in mid air, but when he moved to kick the man he simply knocked him away with the pummel of his sword.

"_Shit_!" Robin cried through the link. Nightwing mentally hushed him. "_This guy is fast_!"

"_Rob, help Superboy get the captives out_," Nightwing ordered, jerking Batgirl toward the stairwell. "_BG, we're going to lure him away from the kids. He's obviously stronger and faster than we are, but we have to play on that. Pretend you're sparring with Batman_."

Robin moved fast toward the children, and he watched as he bent toward one of them, one of the elder ones, who was watching with a stony expression. When Robin tried to pull him to his feet, the boy shook his head profusely, shoving Robin back. His eyes were wide, and terrified, but he waved to the smaller boys around him.

"Take them first. I can go last." Nightwing and Robin stared at the boy for a moment, confused, but there was no time to argue. Robin snatched one of the younger boys and moved to the very small exit, that was more like a little window than anything else. Conner and one child would barely fit through it, and Robin wasn't strong enough to take two at a time.

Batgirl darted forward, moving fast as the assassin dodged her kicks and punches, but she continued, sliding and reacting and spinning on her feet. Nightwing did not follow. He waiting until the assassin caught his eye, and he took a step back. His stomach squirmed at the strange understanding they seemed to have, the indescribable knowing of what the other was thinking. The assassin wanted Nightwing alone. Nightwing wanted him away from the kids.

He spun around and sped up the steps, skidding across the landing as he dodged the man's sword. It was suddenly a chase, debris flying as he fled carefully avoiding the man's blade as it whipped forward, nicking his leg as he spun and kicked him back. Batgirl was following, her eyes wide and questioning as she jumped over the assassin and landed beside Nightwing. He looked at her and spun, swatting her arm to motion her to follow.

"Up, up!" he gasped, feeling blood run down his leg. He wondered vacantly how Jason had guessed that it was the assassin who had organized this. It bothered him. Jason had understood the assassin's plan before Dick had even thought about it. Jason was very smart, but… there was something unnerving and strange about the entire situation, and Dick hated it. It was the same crawling feeling that he felt when he looked into the assassin's eyes and saw him, knew him, and knew well that the man could reach into Dick's mind and crawl under his skin, and know him inside out. It was awful, and invasive, and perhaps it was that way with Jason.

They ran together, dodging and throwing and fighting. Barbara got hit twice more, but they were small scratches, her shoulder and her arm. Nothing bad. She was trying her hardest, harder than she'd ever fought before, and she slid and danced and knocked the assassin through a wall. The entire building screeched and shuddered in protest, shaking long after the impact, and for some reason they had all stopped and stared at each other, giving the building a moment to settle.

"Nightwing," the assassin greeted. Dick's muscles went rigid at his voice, the smooth, disgustingly sly, knowing voice of his that had picked him apart so simply. "You're fairing well, I see. You've found yourself another playmate as well. Thoughtful."

Barbara glanced at him, her voice hissing in his head. "_Tell me who he is right now. I don't care if everyone can hear, I need to know_."

"Leave her alone," Nightwing said, his voice calm. In his head, however, he was seething. "_Flaying, BG. Flaying_."

"_Him_?" Artemis thought, sounding wild and furious. "_It's him_?"

"_Yes. Stay where you are. The building is shaking pretty badly. That goes for everyone, please_!"

"Who are you?" Barbara asked, glaring at the assassin through her cowl. He looked at her, his dark eye flitting up and down her body slowly. It made them both severely uncomfortable, and Nightwing growled under his breath, sending the man's gaze back to him.

"It's only fair that I tell you," the man said. "After all, I know who you are, Grayson."

He saw Barbara's eyes go wide, and she looked at him, her mouth opening in surprise. He shook his head at her, and he stared at the assassin. "Well, I'm listening. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to listen?"

"Very good. You understand. Though I'd hoped we'd be alone, it seems plans must change. I'm called Deathstroke. Your League called me the Terminator once, when I was under their radar." Deathstroke lifted his sword, pointing it straight at Nightwing's heart. "Now answer me this. What will you do to prevent me from telling the world your identity?"

Barbara seemed to bristle at his side, staring at the man with loathing and frustration and fear gleaming in her blue eyes as they darted to Dick's face. He stood, his body still unnaturally rigid, and he felt trapped. He didn't know how to answer Deathstroke. He didn't know if he could do anything. Arrest him, maybe? But that would require catching him, and… Dick wasn't certain he was capable of it. Holding the man down? Sedating him? Even his sedatives wouldn't work fast enough to restrain him, and he'd actually need to get a direct hit at one of his veins, and his armor… no. Truthfully, the only sure way to keep Deathstroke quiet was to kill him. Dick knew he was definitely not capable of that.

So he stayed silent. Because he didn't know. What would he do? He couldn't do anything. The man could tell the world, because Dick would not kill him, and he could not restrain him, and he wasn't sure if M'gann would be able to wipe his identity from Deathstroke's mind if he called her into the room. Even then they would need to hold him down for her to get a real grip on his mind, or else he would just block her out. The man was smart. And Dick was scared.

"Nothing?" Deathstroke's one eye flitted carefully across Dick's face, taking in his stoic expression, and Dick knew there was likely a smile beneath that stupid mask. "I'm disappointed. You would allow me to put those you love in peril? _Jason_?" He said Jason's name in such a sharp, crooning way, it was mocking and spiteful and biting and it dripped with irony and malice.

"Whatever it is you want from me," Dick said, his throat dry, and his voice low. "I can't give it to you, Deathstroke. I won't kill you to keep my secret. I… I can't stop you either. Is this what you want to here?" Dick wished, for the first time in a very long time, that Batman would figure out the details of this mission and come help him. It would be so much easier. Deathstroke would have no chance when Batman caught a whiff of what he was threatening to do to his family.

"No." Deathstroke's eye flashed, and he zipped forward, his blade gleaming in the darkness. Dick flipped away, his fingers catching on crumpled old papers and sending dust flying into the air, staining his uniform a powdery white. Batgirl spun and threw several punches at him, but he was so fast… It was not uncommon for them to face opponents physically better, stronger in almost every sense— but usually they had the advantage of their minds. Cleverness and celerity saved a Bat from a trap. Deathstroke's mind was as sharp as his sword, and a thousand times more deadly. Dick decided he hated him more than anyone in the world— maybe more than Tony Zucco. Then again, maybe not. He couldn't decide, because he was so angry, and so frightened of what might happen to Bruce and Jason if he failed.

When he failed. It became clear now as Dick flipped and dodged and parried, his fist barely grazing Deathstroke's ribs… He would not win. They were matched. Barbara was helping, but only a little. She was still in training, still so fresh and new and raw. It was up to him.

_What do I do, _he thought, listening as his boot caught Deathstroke chest, and he spun away his knuckles connecting with his back. The man retaliated with a blow to the stomach, and that horrible ghostly pain sent Nightwing staggering back, gasping softly_. What do I do, what do I do?_

"Nightwing!" But Barbara was caught, Deathstroke sending her hard through a wall, and he winced, flying into a roll so he could reach where her body had crashed, debris and dust and bits of wall whirling all around. However, he was knocked to the ground by the shuddering of the building, and it screeched in protest and rocked, the floor vibrating as the dust settled, and Barbara emerged carefully. She stood a little awkwardly, as if she was favoring one side.

"You so disappoint me, Grayson," Deathstroke said from above him. Dick rolled onto his back and flipped onto his feet, narrowly missing a stab to one of his kidneys. "Your inability to come up with a solution to your problem eludes me. You have the variables. Put them together."

Variables, variables. An equation he couldn't fathom, a situation that violence wouldn't solve, a mind that knew his better than he did. He hated this. He hated himself for getting into this situation. He hated Deathstroke for playing it so well, so perfectly. This man played a game. It was… a test. A test and a game and a trade. A name. Deathstroke's name. An eye for an eye. To stop the beast, utter its name. Like a fairy tale, and just as unreal. He understood. He didn't know how, and it felt completely unnatural, and he truly, deeply hated this man.

"_Batgirl, I need his name_," Nightwing thought. "_His real name. Check the League's records for an assassin called the Terminator_."

"_Okay. I can do that. Can you distract him_?" She was already on her holocomputer, her fingers dancing across the screen. She looked up only once, and when her eye caught Deathstroke's she did nothing but scowl. It was all a game. Even Batgirl knew it. But it was not a game Nightwing could play. Not now, not when he saw the glow of the detonator as he held it out, his dark eye curious and cutting and calling and clear.

Nightwing leapt at him, reaching for the device with the knowledge that it was a ploy, that Deathstroke was baiting him. But he couldn't stop himself, not with Barbara oblivious beside him, oblivious because of his order, and Jason far below, trying to save the children that were only here because Deathstroke had wanted Dick Grayson to come to him. As he leapt, he called out to every mind linked with his.

"_Everyone get out! He's about to blow us up!_"

He felt the blade, cold and sharp and lethal, as it sliced clean through the all the Kevlar, and sunk into his skin, trailing from his left hip to his right shoulder. He gasped, feeling the force of the attack send him flying, and he moved to catch himself, the pain lancing hard and fast through his body, dark tendrils of fire curling around his chest as the building screamed and an explosion shuddered above, sending cracks spider-webbing across the ceiling. And then suddenly the floor beneath him was falling, and he was falling, and he fell painfully onto his back, his vision clouded by stars. He flipped onto his stomach, but that only made it worse, and he saw Batgirl flying for him as he slid, the world crumbling around him, glass shattering and imbedding itself in his leg. He saw his blood as he slipped into the cool night air, sliding right through the shattered window, and he blinked when he realized he could not catch himself. There was too much pain, too much… he felt the air, and it tickled his neck, and breathed fire against his open wound.

She caught him by the wrist, and he hung limply in the air as he smelt the burning of metal and brick and wood, and listened as the building crunched and crashed and collapsed. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was dust, and smoke stung his eyes, and he looked up. Barbara was hanging from her grappling hook, which had tangled itself around a construction beam beside the wrecked building. They were lucky. They were so lucky. He felt her fingers tremble as her fingernails dug through her gloves and his, and he felt them against his wrist. He could feel blood sliding hotly, thickly down his chest, his blue bird slashed cleanly in half.

"Dick?" she asked in a small voice. "Dick, you have to stay with me here, okay?"

They swung against the wind, and Nightwing closed his fingers around her wrist, feeling relieved as she began to lower them toward the ground. "Okay," he rasped, tears prickling against his masked eyes. "Okay, Babs."

When his feet brushed against the ground, he let go of her. That proved to be a horrible idea, because the pain blinded him almost immediately, and he let out a small, strangled cry, falling onto his side and curling into himself, pressing his hands against his chest. His head rung, and his leg was throbbing, and so was his chest, and he had no idea where he had gone so, so wrong.

"Nightwing?" Barbara gasped, at his side before he knew it. "Oh my god. No, no, no, that's a lot of blood. Look at me. Stop covering it up, I need to see how bad it is!"

He looked at her, and he saw her blurry face through the haze of smoke and dust, and he shakily dropped his arms to his sides, grunting in pain as she sat him up and pulled his back to her chest. Suddenly there were more people around him, and he cringed, holding onto Barbara as she helped him to his feet, her arms around his chest, and her fingers slick with his blood.

Perhaps someone had sent out a mental message, he didn't know, but it seemed as if the entire team had appeared, and they all stared at him, looking torn between wanting to swarm him and help, or give him space. He begged they would choose the latter. He could hear Barbara barking an order for all of them to stay back, and he was eternally grateful for that. He looked around, his vision clearing, and he smiled a little in assurance that he was okay, he was going to live, it was just a scratch. Then his smile slid away.

"Where's Jay?" he whispered into Barbara's ear, his head falling back against her shoulder. She looked around then, her eyes suddenly wild and fearful. "Babs? Where's…" He spoke louder then, and he straightened himself, ignoring the jarring pain in his left leg as the glass sunk deeper through the Kevlar, stabbing into his muscle. "Where's Robin? Superboy, did you see him get out?"

Superboy looked suddenly very pale. Nightwing stared at him. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. Suddenly he didn't feel the pain in his chest or in his leg anymore. He felt nothing but a lurching panic as he attempted to move toward the wreckage, shouting for nothing, and he gasped as he fell to his knees, Barbara still holding onto him tight enough to make stars dart across his vision.

"Let me go," he gasped, twisting against her. "BG, let me go!"

"You're going to kill yourself!" she hissed into his ear. "Calm down. Please calm down. Oh god… oh god…"

"There's… only seven," he heard Rocket say. Dick knew she was talking about the kids. He could see Zatanna and Artemis sifting through the wreckage, crying out softly as they burned their hands on metal and cut them on splintered wood. Nightwing looked at Superboy again. His eyes were wide as he spun around and stared at the wrecked building.

There was a crash, and Nightwing looked to see a slate shoved aside. He stared and he began to laugh in shock and relief as Jason jumped up, a big grin on his face, and he waved his arms. Wally was next to him before he could move another muscle, and Nightwing scrambled forward to meet them. Barbara helped him, and he stared as Jason hobbled away from the wreckage, holding onto a wide-eyed boy. Dick recognized him as the child who had insisted on being rescued last. Well, he'd gotten his wish.

"You're bleeding," Nightwing said, staring as blood dripped slowly down the boy's forehead, staining his mask. His face was littered with cuts, but the one on his head looked awful, oozing crimson against his hair and pale skin. His uniform was torn as well, exposing a bloody shoulder, and a few shallow cuts on his legs. Still, he grinned, wickedly and madly and proudly. Fiercely.

"Speak for yourself, birdy," Robin gasped, though he was wobbling on his feet. He let go of the boy, who was rather unscathed. Dirty, but scratch free. Dick realized, with a burst of pride, that Robin must have shielded the boy from the collapse. They probably hid beneath something so they wouldn't get the brunt of it. The survived as bomb victims tended to survive. They hid in a bunker and waited it out.

"Worst mission ever," Nightwing whispered. "Worst mission to ever grace my memory. Holy… ow…"

"What the hell happened in there?" Artemis hissed. "You know what, never mind, tell us when you're not… dying. Crap. Where's the bio-ship?"

"No need," Nightwing croaked. "Gotham, Arty. Just gotta get back to the batcave."

"You're…" The young boy stared up at him. "When you… those… flips…?"

Nightwing stared at him for a moment, before deciding the boy was in shock. He let himself fall against Barbara, taking deep breaths as the pain returned. "Police are coming," she murmured. "We should go."

"Too far," he whispered back. "I… I might pass out. I'm sorry…"

"Shut up— Robin's down anyway." When he turned his head, he saw that it was true. Jason had collapsed, his fingers against his head, and his face contorted in pain. Yeah, it probably hurt a lot.

The boy was bent over Robin, staring around in awe and surprise. "He… he'll be okay?"

Kid Flash picked Jason up, nodding to Barbara and Dick. "He'll be just fine. We're taking him to get patched up right now, um…"

"Tim," the boy said quietly. He looked up at Nightwing, his eyes big. "M-my name. It's Tim Drake."

Something sounded familiar about that name. He just couldn't remember what.

* * *

_So long. I'm sorry it's so long. It's like, when I'm writing this story I try my hardest to outdo myself from chapter to chapter. I didn't mean for it to be so long. Also, I came up with this mission solely because I wanted to introduce Tim. Don't know when he'll show up again. Deathstroke was a default kidnapper because I thought I might as well bring him back. Just so he'll be a creepy bastard. Actually, watch this story end up being AU because of him once he shows up in the show. Damn it._

_Did anyone think I actually killed Jason off there? I mean, obviously not, because Jason's character as Red Hood pretty much revolves around who kills him. Hell, he takes an old alias of his. Also, I feel like this story is just turning out to be a long character study of Dick. I hope I'm doing it right. O.O There were so many characters in this chapter too. I think I gave at least each of them one line? Poor Aqualad, I want to use him so much more than I do. I just don't get enough chances to. Now he's a character that doesn't get studied enough._

_The title has a double meaning that you might not get. Deathstroke the Terminator is like, the biggest overkill ever. But he deserves it._

_This will most likely be my last update until school begins again, so things might slow down a little. Happy New Year, and review, please?_


	12. Songbird's Dirge

**fall and fail**

**{songbird's dirge}**

One day he would look back on his experience with Deathstroke, and he might find it funny. He hoped he'd have kids so he could tell them how dumb he'd been in dealing with the assassin, and he hoped he'd teach them to know better than to take the bait like he had. Really, the thought of having kids made him a bit uncomfortable. He totally wanted kids, but it was so… weird. Growing up was weird.

About a week after the incident, he was still benched, and still healing. Going to school was the worst, because it was a constant aching in his chest as he tried in vain to pay attention, and he neglected his crutches soon after his first few classes on his first day back from recovery. They were silly, and he didn't need them.

Now he smiled brightly, his face glowing in the flicker of candles as his friends sang around him. It was only Jason, Barbara, Wally, and Artemis, but it was enough. Bruce stood in the doorway with Alfred, watching contentedly as his ward leaned over his cake, blinking out the fluttering flames with one breath. Alfred turned on the lights, and they all clapped as he was pulled from the dining room and into the living room.

"You know," Wally said through a mouthful of cake. "Roy was invited, right? What gives? It's not like him to forget your birthday."

"Roy hasn't really been himself lately," Dick said grimly. He saw Artemis shift uncomfortably. Wally noticed too, and shot her a questioning look. She sighed, setting her cake down and rubbing her hands against her knees, her nose wrinkling in irritation.

"Yeah, I, uh… talked to him. Earlier. He's coming." Dick and Wally grinned and high fived each other, triumphant that their older friend was taking time off his brooding to wish Dick a happy birthday.

"Who's Roy?" Barbara asked curiously. Jason looked up, his eyes puzzled.

"Roy Harper. Red Arrow," Dick said. Wally smirked through his mouthful of cake. "Formerly known as Speedy. Green Arrow's old partner." Dick didn't feel the need to mention that he was a clone.

"Oh," Barbara said. "I remember him. He's pretty cute."

Dick laughed in response, though Artemis's expression twisted into one of disgust. Jason simply rolled his eyes, and began drumming on his empty cup, soft beats resonating in a rhythmic pattern. They'd all learned it while watching a movie earlier in the day, and Dick had the chance to show off his lovely singing abilities that he tended to keep to himself.

"Since when does this Roy guy know your ID, Dickiebird?" Jason asked, after the cup was snatched from him by a disgruntled Artemis.

"Well… he kinda figured it out." Dick shrugged, slipping a fork into his mouth. "I mean, we're both the wards of billionaires. We've met loads of times as just Dick and Roy. He's not dumb, and he figured it out."

"Ah," Barbara sighed. "To be a wealthy man's son. It must really bore you two."

"Roy doesn't live with GA anymore," Wally said. He dug into his third piece of cake, grinning at Barbara brightly. "They've got mad issues. Like, have you ever seen Dick and Bruce fight? I haven't. Wanna know why? Because Batman is actually a decent parent— which, let's be real, surprised us all."

"He can hear you, KF," Dick said quietly. Artemis was glaring at her boyfriend, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey! Ollie isn't a bad parent, okay? Roy's the one who was too snippy to deal with him."

Wally raised an eyebrow at her and took a large swallow. "Because you live with him, and you'd know?"

"I'd know better than you!"

"Uh oh," Dick whispered to Barbara. "Mommy and daddy are fighting again." She giggled in response, earning the glowers of their two friends. Jason simply stared between the four of them and let out a long sigh.

"If you guys have a double wedding, do you think Batman will act as the priest? Because I would pay to see that."

"Jay," Dick sighed. Barbara looked amused, while Artemis and Wally simply appeared flustered.

"Just sayin'." Jason shrugged and leaned his head back against the couch, tilting it toward the ceiling.

Dick saw Bruce standing in the doorway again, leaning against the doorframe. It seemed he didn't want to intrude, but he wanted to watch anyway. It had been a tough week, and Bruce was a little less… distant than usual. It had been similar to what had happened after the flaying incident, only this time Bruce seemed… well, openly shaken. Deathstroke had awakened something horrible within Bruce Wayne by targeting his children once again, this time nearly killing them both. Jason's concussion was gone, and he had nothing left of the incident but a faintly healing cut that he hid with his hair, and a few thin scratches. Still, Dick remembered the strange look on Bruce's face when he came back to the cave from his mission and saw the damage done to his wards.

_We're still just kids_, Dick thought with a grimace. _We're still _his_ kids. Is it okay that I wasn't strong enough? I should have stopped him. He almost killed Jason. Is it okay that I failed?_

He didn't know. He was still scared, though he'd hate to admit it, and life was all about the harsh truth. Dick was sixteen. He couldn't be the strongest. He couldn't be the fastest, or even the smartest. He wasn't the youngest. He wasn't sure who he was in the grand scheme, and it filled him with discomfort. All he knew now was that he should have been more careful. What would Bruce have done if Jason had died? If Dick had died? He shuddered at the thought, plenty certain that there would have been hell in Gotham if Barbara hadn't caught Dick in time, or if he'd bled out, or if the building had actually crushed Jason.

"Master Richard," Alfred called. "You have more guests."

"Guests?" Dick wondered aloud, rising to his feet. He moved toward the door, but Roy appeared beside Bruce before he got there. He saw Bruce's eyes narrow, but Dick beamed up at his friend anyway. "Roy! Wow, you actually got me a gift this year? _Please_ let it be a tee shirt. A nice white one that says, 'I heart Star City'. Yes, I deem this acceptable."

Roy shoved the hastily wrapped present against Dick's chest, brushing past him. "You guessed it. Happy Birthday, squirt. So, are you like, twelve now, or…?"

Dick's smile was dampened a little at the nickname 'squirt', his memory triggering sadly. _John used to call me that_, he thought numbly. Quickly, though, he regained his composure, and laughed. "You know, Roy, I'm almost as tall as you. You really can't make fun of my youngness anymore."

"Like hell I can't." He paused when he saw that Dick's eyes had flashed to the doorway, locking with the dark, catlike gaze of the woman standing there. She smiled coyly at him, her long, black hair wildly framing her face. Bruce was no longer giving her a death glare, and he was watching Roy, his eyes speaking for him. If anything happened, it was on Roy's head.

"Um, hi," Dick said, glancing up at Roy. He winced a little, rubbing his neck sheepishly. The others were standing up now, all except Artemis, who was scowling at the television. "Roy, you have a lady friend."

"Yeah…" Dick saw Wally's eyes widen at the sight of Cheshire, making a loud cry of shock and looking ready to fling his cake at her head. "Dick, this is Jade, my… my wife."

"What?!" Wally and Dick gasped in unison, the shock registering hard and fast. They stared at Roy, then at Cheshire, and Dick felt a little sting of confusion and uncertainty, because Roy wasn't old enough to be married, and this made no sense at all, how could he be married? To Cheshire of all people! "Wait, I'm sorry, back up. You're married? When did you get married?"

"Be honest, how drunk were you?" Wally asked, eyes large and disbelieving. Roy glared at him.

"Yes, I'm married. It happened about a month ago— and I was sober." Roy's mouth twisted into a grimace. "You know, I can leave. If you guys—"

"Oh my god, shut up," Dick groaned, shoving him toward a couch. He turned to Cheshire— Jade, he reminded himself— and he smiled at her, pushing down all his qualms. He couldn't let her see how much he didn't trust her, or else she'd get suspicious. To her, he was just a friend of her husband's, and of her sister's. "You can come in. We're just a little surprised that he didn't tell us sooner."

"It was a sudden engagement," Jade said, her lips pulling at the corners as she walked in, her eyes flitting around the room. She met Artemis's eye, and her lips moved into a sly smirk. "Hello, sis. I didn't know you were going to be here."

Artemis sighed, shrugging her shoulders as she ate her cake, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. "Dick and I go to school together. He's one of my best friends— oh, but you wouldn't know that, would you?"

Jade simply watched her, her eyes half-lidded as she tilted her head. "Right," she said smoothly. "Now, I know him—" Jade looked pointedly at Wally. Her eyes swiveled to Jason and Barbara. "However, I'm not familiar with your other… friends."

"Neither am I, actually," Roy said, peering at the two of them. He squinted at Barbara. "No, wait. I know her. Dick used to video chat with her whenever he came to Star City for a few days."

"Um, right. Hi," she said, waving slowly. "I'm Barbara Gordon. This is Jason, Dick's brother."

Roy looked surprised at this, and he turned to Dick with a startled expression crossing his face. Dick grinned sheepishly as Jason leaned forward, rolling his eyes. "Adoptive brother," Jason corrected. "Jason Grayson is the shittiest name ever, let's be honest here."

"Right," Barbara agreed, laughing a little. "Adoptive brother."

"Why didn't I hear about this…?" Roy scratched his head, looking confused and irritated. Dick shrugged, tossing himself over a sofa.

"I think you were too busy getting married." Dick set down Roy's present on the table, but Wally snatched it and tossed it back at him.

"Nuh uh, dude! Cake's done, now presents! You promised!"

Dick rolled his eyes, still trying to get over the initial shock and creeping feeling of Cheshire being in his living room. At his birthday party. It was completely unreal, and undeniably awkward. "I thought you wanted to watch that horror movie," he said, resting Roy's gift in his lap as the newcomers sat down. Cheshire's eyes were on Artemis, and she was not so much interested in Dick, which was a good thing.

"Yeah, we can do that later. First, presents! Open 'em up, dude, while we're still young!"

Dick laughed, and decided to do just that. He pulled at the ends of the disfigured gift Roy had given him, noting that Roy had wrapped with the white underside of Christmas wrapping paper, the little ruddy faces of Santa Claus beaming at Dick as he tore the paper away. As he'd guessed, it was a tee shirt. However, it was a little more thoughtful to Dick's tastes than he'd anticipated.

"Aw, Roy!" Dick pushed the paper away and held up the black shirt, two human hearts emblazoned boldly on both sides, like lungs. "I'm actually super whelmed. I didn't know you knew Doctor Who."

"I don't. I just know you watch it." Roy shook his head, but he was smiling a little to himself, his arm around Chesh— Jade's shoulders. So _weird_. "And about twenty other weird, geeky shows that only you would watch."

"Untrue." Dick folded the shirt back up and grinned broadly. "I only watch the good ones."

"No, he watches anything that's on Netflix when he can't sleep. Trust me, I hear his TV at night. He watches some screwy shit." Jason was smirking though, obviously not willing to tell them that he often snuck into Dick's room at night to watch said television shows with him. He wasn't really attached enough to any of them to watch them while they were on air, but he preferred it when he could watch a show all at once. Breaking it apart ruined the entire mood.

"Okay, moving on." Dick set aside the tee shirt and reached out stretching his hands toward Barbara. "Your turn, Babs. Oh, if it's fear gas—"

"It's not," she said, relinquishing the small box with a sigh. She frowned at him as he eagerly tore off the top, tipping it over to dump the contents into his hands. "Maybe it should have been, though."

Dick stared at it for a moment before barking a laugh. He turned the taser over in his hands, grinning as he ran his fingers over the smooth metal surface. "Okay, I'll admit, this was clever."

"It took me awhile to make it. I had to read a few books," she said, looking content with the compliment. Dick looked at her, startled. Of course she'd make it. She was Barbara Gordon, she could do anything. Dick saw that she'd paid very much attention to detail, and had even painted on his blue bird, just to make it extra special. Dick placed the taser back into the box, setting it down on the table before he stood up, approaching Barbara. He watched as she winced, covering her face with her arms.

"Please don't," she gasped, just as he jumped on the couch beside her and swept her into a hug. "Get off me! You didn't hug Roy, get off!"

"That's because I'd rather not die today," he laughed, squishing his cheek against hers, and holding her shoulders tightly as she struggled to plant her hands on his chest, pushing him hard. "Bet you wish you kept it for yourself."

"Your face is way too close to mine right now. Back off, Grayson, before I hurt you!"

He did, bumping his shoulder with hers and grinning brightly. She was smiling a little too, though maybe that was only relief from being released from his grip. He saw Artemis examining the taser, looking impressed, while Wally simply watched Dick with raised eyebrows. Dick had completely forgotten about Jade's presence in the room until he met her eye, her lips tugged back into a knowing smirk. Roy just looked confused.

Good thing Zatanna wasn't here, or else he'd have a lot of explaining to do about how he dealt with his more affectionate side.

"Hey, Arty," he whistled. She looked up, quickly dropping his taser back into the box. She looked a little embarrassed as she bent down, picking up the rounded object at her feet. It looked like she'd had a lot of trouble wrapping it, and she had ended up doing something akin to decoupage with several different types of paper. Tissue paper, newspaper, magazine covers, comic panels… hell, he could see old math worksheets sticking out between all the colors and mayhem. It actually looked very artful, though he knew Artemis had just thrown together whatever she could to cover the gift. So, she'd accidentally tapped into her inner artist. Probably without realizing it.

"Is it a ball?" Dick loved guessing what he got beforehand. It made the actual present much more satisfactory. He leaned over, grasping the round object and giving it a little shake. Artemis hissed at him, grabbing his wrists over the table and forcing him to stop.

"Look, I found this at a pawn shop, and it's about three more shakes from falling apart. So don't do that. At all."

Dick peered at her curiously and pulled back, resting the gift gingerly on his knee. He cocked his head and turned the rounded parcel around and around, trying to find a place to tear into the paper. He was keenly aware of Jade's sharp eyes watching his every move, so he carefully slid his fingers beneath the faded face of an old celebrity, and he tore the paper away, listening to it fall around him as his fingers brushed against something smooth, and cold. Metal, he realized, pulling the rest of the paper away, staring blankly at the strange, brightly colored ball. It was sort of rusted, and the paint was chipped around the thick line that ran through the center of the ball horizontally. The metal seemed to be… panels. Bold, ornate panels, that looked like the would simply slid away, folding into itself…

He felt the key digging into his thigh, and he tentatively turned it. Round and round and round, winding it steadily, listening as the cogs within it turned and locked and were ready for use. He let his hand pull back. And it began to sing.

It was a soft croon, so different from the chaotic beat he remembered, but it was the same somehow. It was the lullaby that hummed him to sleep when he'd been a child, and the song that screeched in his ears the night his family had fallen. Familiarity stung in his chest, spreading warmth, hot and squirming, all throughout his body, and he felt sad. The little panels sprung back, and Dick found himself staring as he saw the innards of the ball. It was the circus, playing before him in the slow mechanics of clockwork, little clowns bowing, and bowing, and bowing, an elephant's head perpetually nodding, its trunk slimmer than half his pinky as it clicked, clicked, clicked. Strongmen and tightrope walkers and contortionists all littered the little sphere, dancing in time with the lilt of a music box hidden somewhere in the cavities of the ball's metal heart.

Of course, he stared at the acrobat the longest.

It was a skinny, faceless thing, nothing but a few scraps of metal thrown together to look a little human in shape. Its body was thin, and it whirled on a bit of wire, spinning, spinning, _click_, _click_, _clack_, its metal joints popping with every spiral. It was hypnotizing, and agonizing, and he loved it. He loved his pain, and he loved the deep, pitiful ache in his chest as he watched the little metal doll spin. He didn't know how long he watched. It could have been forever. It could have been only a minute. He didn't know.

"Dude," he heard Wally say. "Come back to planet Earth."

Dick felt the ball jolt, and he watched sadly as it folded back up, covering the little clockwork circus from view. He blinked, and he looked up at Artemis, managing to smile at her before pulling the ball closer to him, feeling a strange comfort by having it around.

"Thank you, Artemis," he said, wincing at how tight his voice was. "This is amazing."

She looked surprised. She sat back, her eyes wide, and she glanced at Wally. "You're… you're welcome. But, Wally kind of nudged me into it. You'll understand when you see his gift."

Wally smiled and tossed him a book. It was wrapped, but Dick knew it was a book. He caught it easily, setting the circus-ball down on the couch beside him. Barbara and Jason were peering curiously at the parcel, though Barbara might have just been looking at him. He could feel her body, her arm against his, and he could feel how worried she was. It was nothing, though. He didn't need to assure her of it. She knew.

"Robin Hood." He'd ripped the paper off to find himself right. Still, he was pretty sure he already had a copy of Robin Hood. Somewhere. Maybe it was in the study.

"Open it, dude!"

He did. He blinked as a few slips of paper fell into his lap, and he tossed the book aside, his fingers grasping the edge of one of the five tickets. He stared, his eyes wide, and he looked up at Wally. The redheaded boy smiled, looking a little sad, but mostly just encouraging.

"Haly's is coming to Central in February," Wally said, leaning on Artemis's shoulder. She was smiling too, though the smile was smaller, and less certain. "I thought the five of us might go check it out. Considering last time everyone went without me, which was super lame, might I add! Oh, and we can see your elephant! The real one, not the stuffed one."

"Wait, wait, you have an elephant?" Artemis stared at him incredulously, and Dick laughed.

"Zitka is the circus's, not mine," he said. Still the thought of seeing the elephant again… it sent a tingle of warmth through him. Going to Haly without needing to save him was also a large relief, and he couldn't help but grin, his fingers tight against the tickets, and suddenly he didn't care at all that Cheshire was in the room. He turned to Barbara and Jason, his eyes large and bright and ecstatic. "Do you guys want to fly with me?"

Barbara was the only one who understood immediately. She stared at him, her eyes going very wide, and then she nodded fast. She looked at Jason, smiling eagerly, but he simply looked confused. After she gave him a long look, he seemed to understand, and he tilted his head at Dick.

"Wait, we'd be allowed to do that? If so, then I'm totally in, Dickie."

"Of course we'd be allowed." Dick placed the tickets on top of the book, and he sprung to his feet, weaving around the table as Wally yelped and jumped over the back of the sofa he was sitting on, ducking and laughing when Dick caught him around the neck, hopping onto his back. Artemis rolled her eyes, glancing at Jade and shrugging as she pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the piggyback ride before the two boys settled down. Of course, they saw her do it, and they grinned boldly at the camera anyway.

"Wanna join in, Roy?" Wally grinned as Dick rested his chin against his best friend's hair, smirking at their older friend. "I think you can carry both of us. Dick weighs like, ninety pounds, not even joking."

"I'm good," Roy replied, looking amused. Jade glanced at him, rolling her eyes, and she let out a long sigh.

"What a shame. Would you like me to take your place?"

Wally's smile was wiped away, and he looked at Roy with wide eyes. Dick kept himself calm, and pretended to be completely oblivious. Roy shook his head, leaning closer to Jade, and whispering something in her ear. Her expression did not change aside from the corners of her lips pulling farther upward. Dick honestly did not want to know, and the more he looked at them, the more creeped out he was.

"Um, if we're done with this love fest," Jason said, holding up his gift. Dick jumped down from Wally's back, just as Jason's phone began to buzz. As Dick approached him, snatching the box from his hands, he looked at his phone and blinked slowly. He then showed the message to Barbara, who looked around sharply in response. Then her eyes met Dick's. He was pretty sure he already knew what it was.

"Oh," he said, taking a step back to look at Artemis and Wally. He met Artemis's eye, and he tried to project what he was thinking, desperately hoping she'd get the hint. If anyone could convince Roy and Jade to leave without arousing too much suspicion, it was her. It only took a few moments for her to look between them and understand. Immediately she nudged Wally, who was watching as well, coming to the correct conclusion as he stood up and yawned.

"Hey, Arty, does Mama Crock know that one of her daughters is married?" Wally asked, watching as Artemis looked pointedly at Jade, scowling. Jade had looked sharply at Wally, but Roy calmed her somehow by placing his hand against her waist. He smiled at Wally, looking grateful it had been brought up. Suddenly Dick realized why Roy had taken Cheshire here. He wanted to meet her mother, but Jade most likely wanted to put it off longer. It was a sly move, but hey, the guy was married to _Cheshire_. Dick doubted she'd be angry with him.

"She, in fact, does not." Artemis matched Jade's dark gaze, her head cocking to the side. "I thought it might be nice if the daughter in question got off her high horse and told her herself."

"Mother dearest will find out one way or another," Jade said, mimicking Artemis's movements. "What does it matter if it's I or you or a scrap of paper?"

"Because you're her daughter," Artemis hissed. "She hasn't seen you in years, and it would make her the happiest person in the world if _you_ told her. Don't you get it? She won't care that you didn't tell her about getting married! She'll only be happy, because you decided to come home to allow her to meet him!"

Jade stood, her body tense, and she watched Artemis with a glower so fierce that it could put a batglare to utter shame. Roy stood as well, his fingers hovering around her shoulders, reluctant to touch her, as if she would lash out if he did. Dick thought Jade would argue with Artemis, send something nasty back at her sister, but she didn't. She stood in silent fury, nothing in her expression but pure icy wrath, and she turned, her anger flickering into a odd, strangely sweet smile as she nodded to Dick.

"I hope you had a _very_ happy birthday," she said, her eyes flashing maliciously. Dick could do nothing but stare at her as she left the room, slinking away with Roy right behind her.

No one spoke for a few minutes. They didn't want to risk it. Then, Dick breathed in relief, grinning broadly at Artemis. "Thanks, Art. That saved us some hell."

Artemis said nothing, but only took a deep breath and leaned back, her head resting against Wally's shoulder. "We should probably go too," she sighed. She glanced at Barbara and Jason. "I assume that's from Batman?"

"Apparently Harley's with Catwoman." Barbara shrugged. Jason stood without hesitation. "Harley really likes hanging around people no one expects her to hang around."

"At least she's found a friend who isn't crazy," Dick replied, a little relieved for the Joker's girl. He hated the Joker with a great deal of passion, but he never felt anything but pity for Harley Quinn. She was duped by the Joker more often than anyone else, and her entire life was devoted to a man who would gladly crush her spine if it suited his fancies. He hated that. But it couldn't be helped. Harley willingly loved the Joker, and she was unhinged. They could do nothing about it.

"Isn't like, everyone in Gotham crazy?" Wally joked as he and Artemis rose to their feet.

"Honestly?" Artemis smiled. "Probably. But you must find us charming, or else you'd never be friends with us."

"I would gladly kiss everyone in this room," Wally said, leaning closer to Artemis. Then he spun around, suddenly at Dick's side, snatching him by the shoulders. "Starting with Dick!"

"KF, don't be gro— agh!" Dick winced as his best friend made an obnoxious smooching sound, pecking him on the forehead and jumping away as Dick moved to throw him across the room. "Waaaally! Not in front of Artemis, she might get jealous!"

"You are troubling me," Jason said, frowning pensively at Dick. "Is there something you'd like to inform the group, Dickiebird?"

"Uh," Dick said, flashing a grin as he rubbed his forehead. "Wally's right behind you?"

Jason blinked, and his eyes widened, but it was too late. The speedster had caught the youngest member of their little group from behind, lifting him into the air and planting his lips against the flailing boy's hair, dropping him as Jason spun around and kicked Wally very hard into the couch. The redheaded boy could only laugh, though, and he turned to Barbara, moving at superspeed and kissing her on the cheek. She didn't seem to notice, or truly care. She smiled though, and shook her head.

"Yeah, I can see why you and Dick are best friends," she said, stifling a giggle. She scooted over as Wally beckoned Artemis toward him, and she reluctantly obeyed. She was smirking, and shaking her head, but she leaned down anyway, catching his lips with hers. Dick was trying to contain his laughter as Jason recovered, looking at the kissing couple with an expression of pure disgust. Barbara was smiling, though she looked a little uncomfortable.

"Not gusting," Dick observed. "Nope. Can you two please go play tongue twister somewhere else? There's something I've gotta do when these two interrupt Batman's date tonight."

Wally and Artemis broke apart, but they still were very close to each other, practically sucking up each other's air. Artemis had crawled into Wally's lap sometime when they were kissing, and now she was tilting her head back, her arms slung around his neck. She shrugged and slipped off him, watching Jason and Barbara as they began to inch toward the door.

"What, no more party? Just 'cause the little bats are going out to play?" Wally pouted, but stood up anyway.

"You know, Wally, 'little bats' isn't the term I would use to describe us," Barbara said, wincing as Dick collected a birthday kiss from her cheek. Wally's little stunt had reminded him that she'd kissed his cheek on her birthday, so it was only fair he got the same deal. She pushed him away, and said nothing more about it.

"Ugh," Wally groaned. "Dog..."

"I'm sorry?" Dick poked Barbara's cheek, earning a jab from her elbow sharply into his stomach. "I'm pretty sure this is precisely the cheek you kissed not… what? Three minutes ago?"

"It was platonic and chaste," Wally scoffed. "You've been all over her tonight!"

"Um, can I object?" Barbara asked, shrugging Dick's arms off her. He gave her a little smile, to which she responded with a blank stare.

"No." Wally picked up Artemis and grinned back at them. "Just kidding. We'll leave you two to be bats, and Dick to be a dog. Happy birthday, dude!"

"If we ever get a dog," Artemis mused. "We should name him Dick."

"Does that imply us living together sometime in the near future?"

"Well," Artemis said, pursing her lips. "We _are_ going to the same college. Assuming I get in."

Wally stared at her. Dick did as well, awed by her boldness. And then Wally grinned, kissing her fast and bumping his forehead against hers. "Babe, you don't have enough faith in yourself. You're one of a kind. Of course you'll get in! But, like, holy crap, are you actually implying that you want to live with me? You actually want to live with me?"

"Kind of second guessing myself," Artemis said slowly. "But, you know what, why the hell not?"

"Uh, you might kill each other?" Dick was grinning anyway, overcome by happiness for his two friends. They really seemed to have a control over their lives. It was like watching the future unfold before him. He could see them together, living in a little house and taking baby steps toward the future, working for a success that was sure to come to them. Dick hoped they would make it. They were so happy, and he was so happy for them. When he was younger he had often wondered what it would be like if Bruce settled down with Selina, or Talia. Talia was a likelier choice, because she almost did. Once. Dick had almost wanted it, too. He didn't think Talia was the choice decision for a surrogate mother— Dick much preferred Selina's company, strangely— but part of him desperately wished for Bruce to have a happy life. A normal life. He could have his own children, and raise them in a happy life, with two parents that truly cared for them, and they would be the most kick-ass little siblings any guy could ask for. But that never happened. Bruce couldn't do it. Talia couldn't either. It was sad, but for Dick, it was only because of the wasted potential. It could have worked somehow. They could have made it work.

Dick didn't know why he was so desperate to believe in love. He'd never been in love himself— not with Zatanna, and certainly not with Raquel. When Dick had asked Bruce if he loved Selina, he replied that he didn't know. When he'd asked if he loved Talia, Bruce had replied that he wished he didn't. When he'd asked if he loved Diana, he'd replied, maybe, but he wasn't entirely sure _how_. Love was so sloppy, and it made fools out of them all, but Dick wanted it to be real. He believed in the thing that his parents had. He believed it was possible for Bruce, and he wanted it to be true with Wally and Artemis. They weren't really ready for anything huge just yet, but they were building it. It was a hopeful thought.

Wally and Artemis left. Probably to make-out some more someplace else. It didn't exactly matter, because Barbara and Jason were already running late, and they left quickly as well. That left Dick with his thoughts, and his unopened gift from Jason. Whatever it was, Dick didn't open it. He wanted Jason to be around for that, and he could wait. He'd already been given more than he could have hoped to expect, and it was enough. It was days like these, truly amazing days with amazing people that made him wonder. Would he trade it all for a life with his parents alive? Would he truly?

He didn't know. He was so scared of that question, because he couldn't trade Bruce or Jason, not for anything in the entire world… not for the sight of his mother's face, or the sound of his father's laugh, or the ginger touch of his cousin as he mussed his hair, affectionately insulting him. But part of him wondered, if given the chance, would he give into the temptation of having his family back? Jason, Bruce, and Alfred were his family, sure. But that was different. It was so different.

Dick had to quickly get himself out of that thought range, so he began to clean up the living room, bringing all the plates and utensils into the kitchen. Alfred looked surprised, and then he tutted, shaking his head. "No, no," Alfred insisted, taking the plates and urging Dick toward the exit. "I won't have you doing my work on your birthday, Master Richard."

"Alfred," Dick sighed, spinning to face him. The man took in Dick's expression, and he faltered in his attempt to rid him. "Please? I know you don't like it when I help, but… I'm really antsy right now. And there's something I want to do. If I help you, then the clean up will be done sooner, and you can drive me. Sound good?"

The old butler was silent for a few moments, looking a little uncertain. Then, he relented with a sigh. "Oh, alright, sir… Do I need to inquire on where we are going? Or should I assume?"

"Assume," Dick replied, moving fast to help relocate the leftovers into plastic containers. Whatever was left would go to the homeless shelter. That was pretty much the only thing they could do with the extra food, since Alfred did not believe in reheating food he'd made the previous day. It was sort of an unspoken service done by the members of the Wayne household, and Dick helped whenever Alfred would let him. He didn't think Jason knew about it just yet, but he probably thought about it.

They had the kitchen spotless in twenty minutes. Dick was sort of hopeless when it came to cooking (well, almost), but he had a talent for cleaning. Often Dick had joked when he was younger that he was practically Little Orphan Annie when he'd came to the Wayne manor, making assumptions about his reason for being around and trying to do half of Alfred's job for months. Actually, he used to sing songs from that musical to himself sometimes. It helped him feel better when he was feeling low, and Dick used to truly enjoy singing. Of course, he never really showed off, because he found it a little embarrassing. His mother had always loved his voice though, and used it to make yet another fine comparison between him and a robin. He never minded.

Dick was constantly bothered when he left the house. He hated being away from Jason and Barbara, because Deathstroke knew them. He was certain that he knew who Batgirl was by now. The man was too smart, and Dick was certain that Barbara's identity would not be secret to the assassin for long. The question was, why had he not struck yet? It had been a week, and Dick had never given him an answer to his test. By all accounts, Nightwing's identity should be on the streets by now.

Unless Deathstroke was simply waiting. It was a sly tactic, and a psychological maneuver. Deathstroke would allow the paranoia to fuel Dick's existence. He would let Dick become obsessed with the idea of Deathstroke knowing him, become obsessed with getting back at Deathstroke, to the point where Dick's entire life would become nothing but a panicked frenzy of convoluted plans and plots to break the man who put his entire family at risk.

Dick would not allow that to happen to him. It was already happening to Bruce, and Dick couldn't let himself become like that. He would keep himself calm, and collect his bearings, because Deathstroke could not be allowed to have his mind. He could know his identity, and he could know his mind, but Dick would give the man hell before he allowed the man to own them. To overtake them. He believed in himself too much to allow someone as cunning as Deathstroke the Terminator become the thing that fueled his existence. Dick lived for the people who cared for him, and he lived for the protection of the people who could not protect themselves. He did not want vengeance. He didn't.

The car ride was too short. Dick wanted to sit longer and mull over his life choices, muse about his place in the great big jigsaw puzzle of life, and most of all, he just didn't want to do it. But there was an immense amount of guilt that troubled him at the very idea of not doing it. So he climbed out of the car, his face meeting the slap of cold December air, and he pulled his coat tighter around himself. He dressed warmly for the occasion, putting on a heavy jacket and boots, pulling out his winter gloves, and shoving a pale blue hat over his dark hair. He didn't bother asking if Alfred wanted to come with him. He already knew the answer.

He listened to the soles of his boots as they crunched against the snow, leaving dark footprints in the glimmering white. The sun was gone, and the night was nipping, and the sky was starless. Everything tasted sharp and biting, and the wind snarled at his ears, whistling under the beanie he'd donned. The world was silent, completely and suddenly, and Dick could feel ghosts kissing his stinging cheeks. They were the wind. They were the tempered, whipping, snarling, scathing cold that clashed against his bare face, the dusting of snow as it spun in the air, riding the winds and smacking his skin like shards of glass. They were his thoughts, and they were his despair, and he walked onward.

He heard phantom flutes, shrill and melodic as they sang in his ears. It was pleasing to his senses, and overwhelming to his heart. He marched on calvary, his muscles taut, and his eyes cast toward the faint shimmer of snow as it stuck to the underside of his boots, softly breaking beneath his weight. The flutes were of his memory; blithe as time, and without fully realizing it he began to hum along. It was a song he remembered well, a tune the entire family would chirp during parties. The circus loved to hear it, because they were not familiar with the impetuous lyrical dissonance. Often the words they sang did not match with the airy melody, and it threw them off, because how could they sound so happy, but sing so sadly? Dick could still taste the stale air of the train; still smell the popcorn and sweat and adrenaline from the circus's last performance. They celebrated in the dining car, and everyone sat around the Flying Graysons as they pulled close and sang.

"_Ked mi kardtka prišla narukovat_," he recalled, his voice a floating cloud as it broke the night air and curled softly, sweetly, mellifluously. The words sounded strange against his tongue. Foreign. He hated that. But still, he formed them without a hitch, his mouth carefully spewing his old language in a smooth, but strangely gruff tone. "_Za__č__eli mi slizi z o__č__u padat_…"

As a child, he learned some Romani customs. He could not claim to be a Roma, but he could not deny that it was part of his heritage either. It had been natural to speak two tongues while growing up. He had never thought to ask of the details with this language he spoke. He just had. It had been like learning to breathe. For the most part he had used English, but his family had been strange and irregular, shifting in and out like a faulty phone connection between English and Romani. The fact that he'd learned circus slang while mixing his two languages made for a jumbled vocabulary. Which, he had to admit, had been extremely whelming. He dropped a lot of it when he realized the rest of the world did not take very kindly to that sort of oddness. The orphanage had practically beat it out of him, and whenever he said something he'd picked up from the circus around Bruce, the man simply looked startled and confused. By age ten, Dick could pretend he'd never stepped foot in a circus, and truthfully, he sort of did.

"_Mili musikanti zahrajte mi __č__erdaš_," he sang. This was the part about the song he remembered the most. When he'd sung it with his family, they'd all sang it with such pure emotion, their voices melded together into one brunt force, and it was all very staccato and sharp. Somehow, though, it all remained as fluid as the softly lulling flute. They were Graysons. Everything they did was fluid. He found himself smiling to himself as he trudged off the path, his boots burying themselves in the snow. "_Pervego oktobra mam rukovat_…"

In his mind, he was seven years old, and bright and bold and far too happy. In his mind, his arms were slung around his father's neck as he sat on his knee, grinning as the man bounced him carefully to the beat of the song. Every so often another member of the circus would join in, belting out words drunkenly, tunelessly, barely pronouncing them correctly. But it was happy. They were all happy. Dick had been happy too. He still felt that happiness, the godly warmth of _belonging_, and knowing that he belonged. He could still smell his father's hair, faintly peppery, not like Bruce, who was more like ash and cloves, but mostly stuck with a mixture of sweat and tealeaves.

Dick bent down on one knee, snow seeping through his jeans as he sighed, his voice carrying loudly in the aching quiet of the night. He gingerly wiped the snow from the pale headstones, counting them as he continued to sing. "_Mili musikanti zahrajte mi __č__erdaš_," he repeated softly, melodically, his fingers running across his mother's name, and his father's, and then John's. "_Pervego oktobra mam rukovat_…"

It was a sad song. It sounded happy when it left his lips, but it was sad, truly, and the weight of it rested on his chest as he moved on to his aunt— and his uncle, whose stone was newer than the others. Dick fell to his knees, his fingers dusting the snow from the narrow letters of his own name. _Richard Grayson_, read the stone. _Uncle Rick. Lone survivor of the fall. I'm sorry I pulled the plug. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry that I killed you. You were in a coma for so long… and you would be asleep forever. Living off a machine… is that even living? Uncle Rick? Even if you woke up, you would never move again. You wouldn't just be crippled, you'd be completely immobile. You understand why I let them do it, don't you? You wouldn't be able to speak if you woke up. I wanted you to wake up so badly, but I was scared… because you would hate me. You'd hate me, and envy me, and you'd hate yourself, and you'd want to die. Was it right? Bruce let me decide. He shouldn't have let an eleven year old decide whether a man lives or dies. I thought it went against his morals then, and I still don't understand now._

What was the difference between pulling out a gun and shooting someone in the brain, and pulling the plug on a life support machine? Dick had been with Uncle Rick when they'd done it. Bruce had tried to persuade him not to be in the room, but Dick refused. He shared a lot with Uncle Rick. His name, his legacy, his features, his blood, his reliance on flying to keep him sane. But Uncle Rick would sooner waste in a coma for the rest of his life than awake again. Dick had hoped it wouldn't come to the worst. But it had. And Dick had let his uncle die.

Dick could feel the snow melting against his thighs, but he didn't care. He took a deep breath, his breath a mist in the darkness, and he sang a little more, a little softer, a little more desperately. "_Kana gardka kudlu ko slugadža, za__č__inde te rovel mire jakha_," he murmured, his heart thundering in his chest. The air whispered his song back to him. Gypsy music, ringing, ringing, soft and proud, brash and unyielding. He might have cried, but the ground beneath the snow had already soaked up all he could give. "_Mire lavutara bašaven __č__ardaši, __kaj mange te khelav mira dake_."

He could hear the sound of his voice carry far. He was suddenly unnerved, and he stiffened, his breath catching in his throat when his lips moved to sing another note. He bowed his head low, embarrassment and fury whirling around and around inside him, meshing and clawing at each other. He could feel a presence behind him, though he did not hear it. Someone was very good at stealth, or else he'd have heard the crunching of snow. And Dick knew exactly who. He felt alienated, and angry, but most of all he was just tired. He pressed his forehead against his uncle's name— his name, and he let the ghostly sound of the flute float away.

"Not in front of my parents," Dick breathed. "Anywhere but here."

"I'm not here to kill you." Deathstroke's voice was chilly, even in the frigid late autumn air. "I could, but I won't. You are very foolish, Grayson, coming out alone. When you are so obviously vulnerable."

"Can we please do this somewhere else?" Dick hated to beg, but it made his chest ache to speak with this man in front of his family's graves. He stood, placing a hand on his uncle's headstone, and spun around. There he was, standing without much care. Dick hoped he hadn't been standing there long, but he had to be honest with himself. The man must have heard him sing.

"I think this is precisely the spot where this needs to happen." Deathstroke cocked his head, his one eye flickering over the names on the graves. It stopped at Uncle Rick's, lingering on the name for a moment. The air seemed thicker when he was around. Dick hated it. He just wanted to man to leave him alone. His desire to catch Deathstroke faded with every move he made against Dick. All of it made little sense, and it freaked him out. He would rather the man just faded back into the obscure corner of the League of Shadows he had popped up from and be done with it. "I see you are recovering."

Dick shifted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Deathstroke's mask, feeling the wind as it whistled softly against him, threatening to blow him away. His knees were shaking, but it was more because of the cold dampness that drenched his jeans than from Deathstroke's presence. Dick was mostly just irritated at it. It seemed so petty to target Dick at the graves of his family, on his birthday no less.

"Get to the point," Dick said, "or get lost."

Deathstroke sounded amused. That made Dick feel sick to his stomach. "You truly aren't in any position to be giving me orders, Grayson," Deathstroke said, in his usual cold, flat voice. "But if you insist…"

Dick stumbled back, carefully avoiding knocking into John's headstone as Deathstroke tossed a box into the snow. He looked wildly between the box and the man who had possessed it, and he shook his head. Vaguely he remembered joking in the hospital about Deathstroke sending him a left over piece of Dick's skin for his birthday… but this? This was plainly horrifying. He wanted nothing more than to kick the box back into Deathstroke's face.

"What the hell is this?" Dick spat. He had only wanted to come visit his family. It was his birthday. He should be granted the company of their graves, at the very least.

"Is it not your birthday?" Deathstroke's eye rolled in a sort of sardonic reply. "My deepest apologies. Shall I dispose of it? Or perhaps we should leave it, and see what exactly is left of your family in the morning."

"Shut up!" Dick quickly scooped up the box, knowing it was exactly what he wanted. In his head, he could hear his mother singing, distant and crooning. _Musicians play czardas_, he thought, dazedly staring at the 'gift'. _What am I getting myself into?_ Dick tore the box open, suddenly not caring whether or not it was a bomb, or something even less pleasant. He just didn't care. That scared him, truly, but he had no time to think about it. Because he saw the contents of the box. He stood for a moment, confused, and then he reached inside and snatched the thin fabric of the black mask designated for Robin. He felt his breath being seized by a force of nature too powerful to hold back. "You son of a bitch…"

"Not too surprised, I see." Deathstroke merely shrugged, as if the fact that he had somehow gotten his hands on Robin— on _Jason_, was nothing to him. "That's good. You're adapting."

Dick had to take a few deep breaths of sharply cool air before he could speak again. He looked up at Deathstroke, fueled by a rage that he had not known existed inside of him. "What did you _do_?" Dick snarled, feeling more powerless than he's ever felt in his entire life.

"Grayson, this is very simple," said Deathstroke, dangerous and cunning and more intelligent than anyone could really give him credit for. "I will give you until midnight to find your… brother, was it? Brother, partner— it makes no matter to me, really. You have until midnight. If you succeed, I won't trouble you any longer."

Dick stared at him, his mouth going dry at the thought. Because Dick was injured, and he was feeling way too rash at the moment to be in this kind of situation. "And…" he said, hoarsely. "If I fail?"

Dick could almost see Deathstroke's smile, curling like a ribbon. He would love to smack the man into kingdom come, and maybe then some more.

"Do you know the code of Hammurabi?" he asked, his single eye glinting in the darkness. "An _eye_ for an _eye_."

* * *

_I'm warning all of you now, I didn't edit this. So I apologize for any mistakes._

_Uh, I'm thinking it's a common fanon thing for Dick to be Romani? Sooo I found this song, Musikanti by Acquaragia drom. They're an Italian Gypsy band. I wanted to do my homework on this one. Mostly because I feel really unsure about trying to tackle anything Romani, just because it's a real culture, and I really do find them fascinating, but I don't want to screw up and assume something about them that's wrong. I think it's a really delicate thing, and I didn't want to tread on any toes. So I tried my best, and this song is really wonderful, so check it out. There's actually no real English translation that I could find, but I found the story it was based on. I'll let you guys have that, so if you want to listen to the song, you can understand what I meant by lyrical dissonance. The song sounds really happy, but the lyrics are... well, far from it._

**_When I received my call-up papers,_**  
**_I began to ask my dad:_**  
**_"My dad, dad, do me a favor,_**  
**_Go to the war instead of me"._**

**_When I received my call-up papers,_**  
**_I began to ask musicians:_**  
**_"Hey you, musicians, play csardas for me,_**  
**_Let me have fun while I'm young,_**  
**_Hey you, musicians, play csardas for me,_**  
**_Let me to have fun one last time"._**

**_Musicians began to play csardas,_**  
**_And tears began to pour from my eyes,_**  
**_Nobody will cry, neither father nor mother,_**  
**_Only three girls will cry for me._**

**_And the first one will cry, because I am her brother,_**  
**_And the second will cry, because I am her matchmaker,_**  
**_And the third will cry, because she must,_**  
**_Because she wears my ring._**

_Yeah. Don't question my decision to give Dick the talent to sing, his voice actor is Jesse McCartney. Let's be honest here. Anyway, review, please? =]_


	13. Eyes Wide Open

**fall and fail**

**{eyes wide open}**

Once when Dick had been small, he used to squeeze himself into a traveling crate and refuse to come out when he was upset. Once he'd spent half a train ride in the storage car, simply because he had gotten into a fight with John about something trivial that he honestly could not remember now. Dick had always been pretty good at running from his problems. He confronted them more now, but still, there was a part of him that could not escape the instinct to flee from an issue he could not solve efficiently and logically.

Dick had no qualms running from Deathstroke. He did not feel like a coward, nor did he feel like a superhero. He felt like a sixteen year old kid who had just been handed his brother's death sentence. He couldn't think properly. He couldn't fight properly, either, if it came to that. He was scared, and he was not in the position to save Jason. When he checked the time, he found that he only had three hours to locate and rescue Jason, and that sent him panicking.

He said nothing to Alfred when he reached the car, and he found himself diving into the back seat, clutching Jason's mask to his chest and glowering out the window. Alfred needed no urging, and he was on the road by the time Dick had managed to catch his breath, his chest stretching painfully from the exertion.

_If I don't find him_, Dick thought, curling up against the dark leather seats_. Then Deathstroke will take one of his eyes. And then maybe the rest of him. I can't protect him this time, and it isn't fair…_

Dick couldn't afford to let himself break now. Not when so much depended on his success, not when Jason was in Deathstroke's hands. Dick had three hours. He'd done near impossible tasks in less. He had nothing to fear… right?

Somehow Dick found himself back on Haly's train, wedged carefully between a box of elephant food and a pair of beams. He could hear the patter of rain as it beat rhythmically against the roof of the train car, pattering softly in the darkness. Dick remembered what he'd been angry about that last time. It was the train ride to Gotham City. He had been furious at the fact that he was not allowed to participate in the finale, and he'd voiced his disdain quite openly. It was a gloomy day as they neared Gotham, but then again, it was Gotham City. Gloomy was putting it lightly.

John had found him like that. He'd seemed so big back then, so tall and old and wise. Dick had always thought him to be an older brother, and he acted the part very well. Sometimes when Dick was with Jason, he felt a very odd sense of fulfillment, as if he'd been handed a torch. But Dick and Jason were so much closer in age than Dick and John had been, and the dynamic was so different. With John, everything was about the desperate need to prove himself, to become someone that John would want to be a brother to. With Jason, it was just the opposite. Dick wanted Jason to be Jason, and he didn't want him to have a need to prove anything.

"_It's so dark in here_," John had whined, bending on one knee before him and grinning broadly. Dick had simply looked down, feeling ashamed for running off. "_You're gonna end up blind as a bat if you keep this up_."

"_I won't_," Dick had argued, "_I'm fine. Maybe it's just you. The old age is getting to your eyes_!"

"_Nah, you're just weird. You know what they say about little boys who hang out in dark, secluded places, right, squirt_?" John had laughed, and pulled Dick up by his arms and dusted him off.

Dick had given a negative reply, a mumble of irritation as John attempted to straighten him up. He recalled him trying to unruffled Dick's clothes, shaking his head in disbelief at the grime that covered him, and trying in vain to flatten out his hair. Dick had gotten annoyed and pushed him back. John had merely laughed more, louder this time.

"_Look, stop stressing about the finale thing. Your time will come, eventually. It's a growing up thing, like not being able to get a kid's menu at Friendly's, or getting your driver's license, or being able to vote, or being able to drink. You're only nine, Dick. You've got a lot ahead of you_."

"_You don't know that for sure_!" Dick had cried. "_I just don't understand why I can't do it now! I'm totally qualified! Like, have you seen my quadruple flip? Have you? Come on, I know you have_!"

"_It's great,"_ John had said, very tenderly. "_Honestly, it's better than mine. But still, no finale. Not ye_t."

"_But why_?" Dick remembered the sound of his own exasperated voice as he'd sighed and allowed John to lead him carefully from the storage car. The train rumbled onward, fighting against rain and fog and late winter ice. "_Do you guys think I'm not good enough? That I'll slip and fall, or something_?"

"_No_," John had murmured. "_It's… it's just that we don't want to see you get hurt. Your skills have nothing to do with it. We just care too much about your well being, and… there's something about watching you go out without a net— especially now, of all times… I can't explain it right now, but you've gotta trust me_."

Dick had not understood then. He'd thought it had been a slight against him, but now he realized they were frightened for him because they'd known already. They'd known that there was a threat against the circus. They simply just had not thought it would be so lethal to them personally. Still, it had kept them from sending Dick out without the safety net. They'd saved his life. And he'd watched theirs blink out of existence in a flurry of spirals and screams and gut wrenching crunches.

John had been sixteen when he'd died. Dick couldn't believe it, but it was true. He was now the same age as his cousin when he'd fallen to his death. It was a jarring revelation, and it made Dick confused and uncomfortable, because John had always seemed so… old. Dick had looked to him in wonder, because he had seemed so big, so brave, so talented, and he had only been sixteen.

"Master Richard?" Alfred asked, hesitantly, as he opened the door. He stared at him, curled against the leather, his knees tucked to his chest and his forehead pressing against his folded hands that clutched Jason's mask. Dick had failed John as a little brother. He couldn't fail Jason as an older one.

"I'm fine," Dick said, dropping his knees and jumping out of the limousine. He smiled a little at Alfred, and clutched the mask tighter. "Just a little spooked, Alfred."

That was a lie. Deathstroke did more than just spook him. Deathstroke terrified Dick, in ways he had not thought existed. Deathstroke was like the stranger that he'd always been warned about as a child— never make eye contact, don't take what is given, don't speak, just run. In the circus he'd been taught never to speak to anyone he didn't trust unless a Grayson was present, and when he'd settled in Gotham he'd sat through dozens of stranger danger programs during class. It was all the same. And it still applied. Deathstroke made Dick squirm, and he hated that.

By the time Dick had reached the Batcave, he'd already examined the mask thoroughly enough to make sure that it was actually Jason's mask, and that there were no trackers on it. He wasn't surprised to find Bruce already fast at work at one of his many monitors, and Barbara steadily working at the ones he could not occupy. She was the one to look up when he arrived, and she stared at him, her eyes wide.

"Jason—!" she started, looking mortified.

"I know," he cut in. He held up the mask and tossed it to her, moving toward Bruce as she caught it, staring at it with a suddenly void expression. "I went to the cemetery, but… turned out to be a bad idea."

"It was my fault," Barbara said quietly. Dick looked at her, uncertain, and she quickly went on. "We were supposed to be watching each other. That's how the partner thing works, right? He was watching my back, but I wasn't watching his— and then he was gone, and when I tried to radio him, he said that there was a girl… I messed up again, didn't I?"

"Of course you didn't mess up," Dick told her gently. He frowned, and then he looked at Bruce sharply, scowling at the back of the man's head. "You didn't tell her she screwed up, did you?"

"I may have suggested that she could have done better," Bruce replied, his voice giving off a strange, chilly quality that Dick did not like at all. It made him seem more aloof than usual, and sort of frightening. "Her carelessness resulted in Robin's disappearance."

Dick saw Barbara bow her head, chewing her lower lip shamefully and averting her eyes. He stared at her, and he sighed, shaking his head as he watched her run her fingers across the smooth surface of Jason's mask. "He was kidnapped," Dick said, sharply. "That's not Babs's fault, Bruce. Knowing Jay, he probably went off on his own, and just didn't tell Barbara that he was doing it."

"I should have realized he wasn't behind me, though," Barbara sighed. She rubbed her face, her gloved fingers massaging the skin around her eyes. Dick saw that she was exhausted, perhaps not used to the rigorous schedule that the Bats maintained. "That was my mistake, and I know it."

"Your visit to the cemetery took a bad turn," Bruce stated, never looking away from the screens as his fingers glided over the keys, carrying out multiple tasks at once.

"Yeah…" Dick wrinkled his nose in disdain, and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Deathstroke snuck up on me."

Barbara looked up at him sharply, her blue eyes growing wide and horrified. He shook his head at her, and noted how Bruce's body stiffened, and his head jerked slightly. Deathstroke was becoming something like a taboo around the cave. The sooner they pegged him, the sooner they might be a little less rigid.

"He only came to taunt me," Dick said, looking pointedly at Bruce. "He kidnapped Jason because he wanted to get to me. Maybe it's a test, I don't know. We have until midnight."

"Of course," Bruce grunted. He said nothing more, but instead looked at Barbara. Or rather, the mask in her hands. Quickly, he stood up and snatched it from her, whirling around in a spiral of heavy kevlar and a billowing cape. Dick was frustrated, and he knew that he should be doing more, doing better, going out into the field and doing something about his missing little brother— but he knew he wouldn't make it long. His stitches would tear before he got three blocks, and the wound on his chest was only just beginning to heal properly. Dick wanted to be strong, but he wasn't stupid. He'd do more harm than good.

_Will Deathstroke keep his word?_ He wondered this as he took Bruce's place at the monitors, and began to sift through the alternate tabs that were trying to hack into the trackers left inside Robin's suit— the trackers that were all jammed, somehow. Even the tooth tracker they'd installed around the time Dick had gotten a replacement molar for the one he'd lost in the summer_. I doubt he'll back off completely… he has no reason to. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Wow, okay, focus, Dick, focus…_

He was a lot more panicked than he let on. Barbara was obviously fighting an internal battle as she moved about, her fingers flicking gently across screens and clattering against keyboards. She looked conflicted, not quite adept at keeping her face stoic and emotionless like Bruce and Dick were. Bruce had chosen to not be near the two teenagers, instead focusing on the mask.

"We'll find him," Barbara murmured. She didn't look away from her screens, and he saw her fingers quivering slightly as she tried in vain to hack through Deathstroke's jamming signal. "We're going to find him."

"Yeah." Dick thought about the unopened birthday present sitting in the living room of the manor above him, and he felt a horrible sinking within him, as if his heart had dropped into his stomach. "We have to."

* * *

The air was stale, and frigid, painfully biting at his bare face. He felt sluggish as he awoke, his body reacting tenderly to the harsh cold, and the remnants of the drug that had knocked him out cold. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he tried to recall what had happened, and bile rose in his throat as he shook his wrists, swearing softly to himself as the cuffs rattled against a pipe. The touch of frozen metal against his skin burned, and he felt cold radiate from it as heat flowed off a flame.

The first thing that became painfully clear was that he no longer had a mask. His eyes were open to the dimness of an old warehouse, the soft sounds of winter winds whistling through broken windows. He'd screwed up. Fuck him, he'd really screwed up. He shook his head, pressing his numb hands together and hoping that the friction would allow some feeling to spark inside them once more.

"You should have stayed asleep," a voice spat. It was a soft voice, strangely unrefined in a melodic way that echoed off the empty walls and stretched far through the cavernous warehouse. Jason Todd stiffened at the sound of it, but quickly yielded himself to the notion of his own vulnerability. He'd been abducted. His identity was compromised. He really, really wanted a joint of anything strong right now, and inwardly laughed at the idea of sharing a smoke with a villain.

"Maybe," Jason murmured. He cocked his head back, and saw that he was stuck in a corner, rusted piping zigzagging all across the ceiling and creeping along the walls. He exhaled sharply through his nose and glared into the darkness, tucking his bare feet beneath his legs to maximize the defrosting process. The floor was frigging _cold_. "Wanna show me your face? Since you've gotten acquainted with mine well enough, I guess."

He blinked as he felt the sharp, icy bite of steel against his throat, and he went very still, commanding his muscles to freeze. He lifted his chin, his brow furrowing as his captor tilted her head, her long hair spilling into the light that streamed in from the busted windows— strange, silvery strands that caught the moonlight like liquid mercury. It would actually be really pretty, if he wasn't being threatened with a sword to his jugular.

"You don't need to see my face," she stated. He frowned, noting the outline of her face very clearly, and then he found himself smiling.

"You should've worn a mask," Jason said, leaning forward, letting the sword's blade cut his skin. He felt the dribble of hot blood as it ran in thick rivulets down his throat, staining his collar. He saw her face clear now, and he saw that she was just a child. Younger than him, maybe. She had a face that was very concise, sharp and pointed and deadly as the point of her sword. Her hair was indeed silvery, maybe even white, and it was long and unruly, hanging around her shoulders in twisted, tangled waves. He'd seen this girl before, briefly, and he understood what had happened. Internally he cursed himself to hell and back, but externally he smiled cockily, his eyes landing on her throat. She wore a necklace. He could see the pendant gleam against the pale stream of light. "If you wanted to kill me, you could have done it when I was sleeping. Nope, you need me alive. For somethin'. Blackmail, or ransom. Whatever."

"Alive, maybe," the girl said. She raised the tip of her sword to his chin, and it took a lot to keep his smile plastered there, to keep the fear from glowing in his eyes as she dragged the cool metal across his cheek, leaving a sting and a strange sensation of warmth as the sticky consistency of blood dribbled down to his chin. "But in one piece? That's _my_ call."

"Your boss lets you decide when and how you splice up your victims?" Jason leaned away from the blade, wincing as he felt her long white hair tickle his nose. She was leaning closer, her eyes narrowed. They were a very stunning shade of blue, he saw, and he wanted to laugh, because she obviously had very little experience with the legitimate villainous actions. She should have a mask on, so he would not be able to see the startled quality those blue eyes took, or how they flickered upward and away and back. She was uncertain. She was like him, but worse. Too raw, too new, too eager to please, too confused, too insecure.

"Why wouldn't he?" she asked, her fingers sliding around his bleeding throat, and she slammed his head back against the wall behind him. His shoulder hit the pipe he was chained to painfully, and he blinked and gasped, squirming as she slid atop him, her sword flipped to the blunt edge and digging against his cheek. He stared at her, his mouth falling open as she leaned even closer. He could feel her breath, hot and almost welcome, against his face, a small mist that was visible for a heartbeat before dispersing into the air.

_Calm_, Jason told himself. _Holy shit, stay calm, this ain't Babs, and she might actually kill you, so don't act stupid— oh wow, this is really uncomfortable, god damn fu— whoa, is this how Batman feels when Catwoman gets all weird and— oh_.

His face felt very warm, but he ignored it, and kept his gaze steady. He went over the information he had on her. She was young, twelve to fourteen, inexperienced, but eager to put on a show, her boss was a man who trusted her, and her name began with an R, according to her necklace. Another sign of inexperience. Perhaps she just had been too busy to take it off. Who knew?

"So," Jason rasped, wincing at her grip on his neck. Her hair was sort of curtaining his view, so he really only saw her, and her eyes, and he wondered how the hell he could play this without dying, making out with her (he figured her boss wouldn't like that), or looking stupid. "What? You're not even going to ask my number? Just right to the straddling? Damn, my expectations for humanity are too high."

"Please don't flatter yourself," she breathed, a warm mist enveloping his face, sending it tingling. "I'm keeping you from slipping the cuffs, not—"

"Straddling me?" He rolled his eyes. He'd slipped the cuffs during their little stare down earlier, but he was actually kind of enjoying this. He'd never had a girl do this before, and he had to admit, it was beginning to be sort of fun.

The girl tilted her head, and then she smirked. "Sure," she whispered. "You know what? When my fa—boss gets here, and gives me the okay, I'm going to sit here. Just like this. And I'm going to take a knife, and very, very slowly— in the most intimate way possible— carve out one of your eyes, and wrap it up so very prettily in a box decked with blue and black ribbons. And then I'll send it to your brother, as a very happy birthday present."

_Deathstroke. She's Deathstroke's. His what? Not apprentice. She's not trained well enough. It's like… he hasn't really trained her at all. Maybe… he doesn't want to? _Jason stared at her, his eyes moving down to her neck, where the necklace was hanging against the pale color of her blouse. She wasn't wearing the proper garb for this type of thing. She looked as if she could be heading out to the mall, or for a walk, but not to potentially kill a superhero. This had been short notice, and she probably had no change of clothes for this situation. Because Deathstroke didn't want to train her. He'd only used her to lure Jason away from Batman and Batgirl, and allowed her to keep watch. Probably with the order to keep him knocked out.

_Well shit_, he thought, leaning his head back against the wall. _I just found Deathstroke the Terminator's weak spot._

"One hell of a first date," Jason joked. He let out a dry chuckle, his head twisting beneath her fingertips. "But if you want _my_ opinion—"

"I don't."

"—I personally think having your dad around might be tad bit awkward." He held up his thumb and forefinger for emphasis, watching as her eyes went wide, and she moved to spin her sword around. He rolled his eyes and backhanded her, watching her slip off him. He sprung to his feet and kicked the sword away, jumping over her body as she pushed herself up, looking wild as she let out a string of curses.

The floor was like an ice trap, and the feeling of his bare soles against the concrete sent jolts up his legs. He rubbed his wrists, which were red and a little torn up from the effort he'd put into squeezing his hands through the cuffs. The art of slipping handcuffs in such little time had been taught to him by Dick, not Bruce, who Jason had assumed to be the source of the talent. Nope. Dick admitted that he learned the trick from _Zatanna_. Of course, she was a magician by default, and it made sense, but shit, Jason couldn't help but get nasty mental images.

_Shoes_, Jason pleaded, his numb feet slapping hard against the floor, unable to keep silent. He was still sluggish from the drug, and he stumbled, his shoulder ramming into a wall as a wave of vertigo hit him hard. _Shoes, gloves, belt, cape, mask… bucket. Oh, shit, no, keep it together, Todd, hold it down, don't_—

He felt a flare of heat shoot through him, and he grappled helplessly for his chest, heaving softly as he twisted, his fingers scratching against the wall. Whatever he'd been drugged with, it was awful. He squeezed his eyes shut as bile rose in his throat, and he back arched painfully as he clutched his stomach, releasing the contents of it onto the cold warehouse floor.

His fingers slipped, and he felt tears prickling his eyes from squeezing them shut so hard. He shook, a chill crawling up his spine, sharp and frigid fingers drawing themselves across his skin in long, painfully uncomfortable trails of ice. He gasped, sweat clinging to his brow, and to his neck, and he looked up, his eyes glowing with a fiery rancor that pressed deep into his soul.

"What," he gasped, clinging to the wall, "did you _do_?"

She stood before him, her body very slender and lithe, ready to get a good stab at him with her stupid frigging sword. It glowed faintly in the weakly streaming white light that poured in from the windows. Jason's throat burned, and his chest hurt, and he glared at her with vehemence and disgust. Her pretty, sharply angular face was turned upward, fierce and unyielding. There was a bruise forming beneath her left eye, crawling across her acute cheekbone, and her eyes were glowing with determination, blue as sapphires, and just as hard. She was pitiless, and unbowed to his retching, standing firm toward whatever her goal was.

"I didn't do anything," she said, the tip of her blade brushing the bold R emblazoned on his breast. She took a step forward and grabbed him by the neck, carefully avoiding the vomit and yanking him from the wall, using an astonishing amount of strength to toss him to the floor. "Guess you're just tipsy. Have too much fun, boy blunder?"

"Go fuck some rusty barbwire," he spat. His mind was muddled and dark, and he pressed his frozen fingers to his chest, gasping softly as he tried to calm himself.

"Wow," she remarked, planting her boot between his ribs, forcing his back to connect painfully with the concrete. He groaned, nausea creeping inside his stomach, churning it slowly in a tumult of disgust and unrest. "You're a real charmer, aren't you? Such pleasant imagery."

He glared up at her, his breath rattling softly in the cold air, and he turned his chin up defiantly. He didn't care how sick he got. He wouldn't let her win. "So," he said, swallowing the bile and vomit that clawed up his throat. He breathed, keeping calm as he could in the situation he was given. He was fine. He'd be fine. "What does the R stand for?"

She froze, her eyes flashing in surprise, and she looked momentarily stunned. He took this opportunity to force her leg back, throwing himself onto his hands and spiraling, knocking the blade from her fingers. When she stumbled, he pushed himself further, ignoring the sudden rush of lightheadedness that plagued him as he shoved her back with the balls of his feet.

"It's your name, right?" Jason grinned, despite the dizziness, and he tackled her, fighting her squirming limbs, pinning her to the ground with his knees digging hard into her sides, and his legs pressing heavily onto hers. She twisted, and she narrowed her eyes at him, her long, scraggly white hair spilling across the floor as she let her head fall back.

She studied him, her eyes flashing dangerously across his face. He could tell he'd struck a cord with her. She didn't seem to know how to reply, and he knew he was right. Of course he was right, what else would the necklace be for? He suspected it had been tucked into her shirt beforehand, which was why she had not thought to take it off.

The girl smiled then, a poisonous smirk that gnarled at her lips, and her eyes were half-lidded as she hissed at him. "It's _Ravager_," she spat. And she looked past him, her body resting against the concrete. Jason realized too late, and when he spun around, he was met with a heavy boot crashing into his chest, sending him flying against a wall.

The impact had blown everything out of him. He gasped, one of his ribs catching the side of a pipe, and he chomped down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming as he collapsed on the ground. His head smacked against the concrete, hard and cold, and he saw bold white stars and hot red blood as he twitched, his breath hitching in his throat. He was shaking when he felt a shadow loom over him, dark and menacing, and he groaned in spite of himself as he was yanked up and held in midair by his neck. He couldn't breath, and his legs kicked feebly at nothing as Deathstroke gripped his bloody neck tighter.

"Thank you," Deathstroke said. His voice was as cold as the icy floor below them, lacking emotion, and carrying a curious sort of monotone. "That was a very interesting show. However, I cannot allow it to go on."

Jason stared into the man's mask, and he seethed, his eyes widening with pain and rage as he met Deathstroke's shadowed gaze. He did nothing but glare as the assassin squeezed tighter, and the world darkened around him, lights flickering and a rush of noise, soft buzzing, rattling, ringing, chimed softly in his ears.

* * *

Batman found him within the hour. It wasn't unexpected, or anything, and Dick was glad. But he'd realized something about this entire situation. Deathstroke wanted Dick. That was the entire point of the kidnapping, right? But Batman had expressly stated his refusal to have Dick on the field. Meaning, of course, that Deathstroke could easily forsake his words and off Jason.

"I'm not saying you should leave me alone with him," Dick tried to reason, ignoring the harsh stare of his mentor. Barbara was giving a pitying look, and she looked as if she wanted to say something, but she kept quiet. Probably because she blamed herself for this. Dick wished she'd just listen to him and stop putting herself on the chopping block, but whatever. "I mean, god, no. Don't leave me alone with him. Stay as close as possible, but… I think I get it. Deathstroke went through the trouble to get Jason, and then he came to me to tell me that he had him. If I don't show up, then what? I don't want to take the chance of him hurting Jason."

"And what of the chance of him hurting you?" Bruce's eyes were dark, and his voice was deathly serious, and Dick knew fighting him on it was close to useless. But he didn't care. He couldn't sit back and do nothing. He meant to end this, and he couldn't do that while being helpless in the cave.

"He already hurt me," Dick said. He shrugged, his stitches pulling taut against his skin, and he fought back a wince. "Look, if I walk in there alone, he's gonna think that I snuck away from you guys. Surrender, maybe. If we do that, you two will have the element of surprise. I know I can't fight too well right now, so I won't try, but let's be honest. This is a good idea. You can't deny it."

"Do you really think you can fool him?" Barbara looked a little desperate, as if she didn't dare to hope.

No. Dick wasn't sure at all, but he needed this. He needed them to trust him. So he nodded, and smiled at her reassuringly. "Just give me the okay," Dick said, looking up at Bruce. "Please. You'll be right there. Just give me five minutes to get Jason, and then I'll send a signal."

Bruce watched him, his eyes harsh as he took in his ward's determined expression. Dick tried to match the gaze, squaring his shoulders and studying Bruce's face. He wouldn't back down. He was too old for Bruce to ignore his wishes, and he wouldn't allow it this time. Not when Jason was on the line.

Dick allowed himself a short moment of pride as Bruce relented, giving him a sharp, miniscule lecture on what he would do when he entered. If he was going to trick Deathstroke, it had to be convincing, so he wasn't allowed to have a communicator. If Dick didn't give a signal in five minutes, then Batman and Batgirl were coming in, and he better have Jason at least half-way to safety. Or else. Yeah.

"What's the signal, exactly?" Barbara whispered as he emerged from suiting up. The suit felt too tight over his bandages, and it was constricting to his stitches. Dick shrugged, sliding his mask over his eyes.

"Yeah, uh…" He laughed uneasily, ruffling his hair as she stared at him, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You'll know it when you see it?"

She blinked, looking unnerved. "You are ridiculous," she hissed, spinning away from him and slipping her cowl over her head. He shrugged, knowing that she wasn't truly angry with him, just irritated that he hadn't thought this through enough. No, he'd thought it through fine. He just didn't know if he'd need a signal, knowing Deathstroke. He turned back to his cycle, which was black and blue and sleekly painted, made for speed and endurance. Going in first meant he was going alone. He had to make it look like he was alone.

He felt Bruce behind him, and he almost wanted to sigh, because he didn't want another lecture. They were wasting time. An eye for an eye, he reminded himself. He imagined bringing Jason home, bloody and confused, and telling him when he awoke that he'd lost one of his eyes. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to imagine the consequences if he failed.

"Nightwing."

Dick turned, leaning back against his bike, and he saw that Bruce had pulled up his cowl as well. He was also holding onto Jason's gift— as well as a pair of eskrima sticks. Dick blinked, hoping he didn't look too surprised as Batman tossed them to him. He'd had them tucked away in his belt when he'd been Robin, but Nightwing didn't have as much pocket space. It had never occurred to him to add them to his inventory again.

"A birthday present?" he joked, twirling one curiously. He noticed there was a small switch at the edge of the stick, and he turned it over. The edge was indented, and it looked as if it would peel away to reveal… something. He flicked the switch and leaned back as two prongs jumped from the inside of the stick, alive and spitting electricity in a soft hum. "Okay. That's pretty cool. And dangerous." He flicked the switch again, feeling a little uneasy at the idea of electrocuting someone.

"You'll need dangerous," Batman said, setting Jason's present down on the seat of Nightwing's bike. He looked at Nightwing, his lips thin and his jaw set. He was beyond the point of rage. Nightwing almost pitied Deathstroke for invoking the wrath of the Dark Knight. Actually, no, not really, Dick hoped Batman would throw Deathstroke out a window. It would be a sweet victory, and karmic justice.

"Thanks," Nightwing said, his voice soft. He tucked the eskrima sticks into his belt, and he smiled up at Batman, knowing he'd only get a blank stare in return. He merely nodded, turning away, and Nightwing looked down, knowing that the prongs in the eskrima sticks would do ten times the damage of the taser Barbara had made. He decided he'd only use the prods when it was absolutely necessary.

He really had wanted to wait until Jason was around to open the present, but hey, his birthday was almost over, and if Bruce thought he should open it, who was he to argue? He sat down his legs still thrown over one side of the bike, and he tore the paper away, tilting his head at the box. It was some article of clothing. It had that shape to it, the classic clothing box. He pulled off the lid, peering at the contents, and nearly choking on his laughter.

It was a leather jacket, black and smelling new, the scent of it clinging heavily to the air. When Dick pulled it out, he laughed even more, amazed and surprised to see that Jason had taken a previous design for the Nightwing uniform, one that he had not exactly cared for, and turned it into something he would like. The bird met in the middle of the chest and swooped upward, its wings yawning across the shoulders. Blue stripes crawled down the arms, stopping at the wrists. Dick shook his head as he rested the jacket across the handlebars, and pulled out a pair of motorcycle gloves, similar to Jason's, that matched the jacket perfectly. Down to the stripes.

_Okay, Jay_, Dick thought with a grin as he donned the jacket and gloves. _You've got an eye for style, I'll give that to you._

He ignored the shaking of Batgirl's head as she and Batman watched him grab his helmet, and throw his legs over the seat. The bike roared into life, and he threw a two-fingered salute their way as the wheels jerked forward, and he was moving toward the son of a bitch who'd taken his little brother.

Batman would tail him from afar, and ditch the Batmobile when they got close to the warehouse in question. Nightwing hadn't asked how Batman had figured it out. He didn't care. What mattered was that they got Jason out of there, and Nightwing was going to do just that. He was taking a huge risk, and he knew it could very easily lead to his current injuries worsening, as well as fresh injuries to slow him down.

He truly could not find it in himself to give thought to it though. This was about Jason. He was the one most at risk, and he was the one who needed to be saved. They would have time to mope about any injuries caused to Nightwing later, when Jason was safe, and in one piece.

The bike roved through the streets smoothly, weaving between cars and civilians, taking itself to the max and then going over. He felt the wind against his body, whistling softly as it pushed against him, warning him that there were repercussions to such plans that forced him to do something he wasn't prepared for. He would not win any fight in his condition, and certainly not one against Deathstroke. What was he thinking? What was he planning to do?

Talk. That was the simple answer. Dick had no choice but to try and stall Deathstroke long enough, and plant a few explosive batarangs near something that would blow. That was a fine enough signal for him. Nightwing knew Batman would swoop in to save the day either way, and he trusted that the Dark Knight would give Deathstroke hell.

The speed was exhilarating, and often riding felt similar to flying, but more… constricting. With flying, he felt like an acrobat. He was an acrobat, and he proved it with lithe flips and spirals and arches and he used his body to fling himself through the air. Riding a cycle was like falling forward, and shooting through the air with more rigid muscles.

Getting to the warehouse was easy. _It's getting out. Getting out's the trouble_. He tilted his head, wondering how he should approach getting in. He didn't doubt that Deathstroke already knew he was there. Motorcycles weren't exactly made for stealth. Still, Deathstroke likely wanted a showdown. Nightwing couldn't exactly give him one, but he knew facing the assassin was inevitable.

He decided to go through an already broken window. He judged that he could make it through without a scratch, and positioned himself, slipping through the jagged hole and dropping. His feet did not make a sound, despite the brace on his leg, and the constant pull of his stitches. It was very cold without his helmet on, and he sort of missed it. The nip of December air bit at his exposed skin, and he looked around, squinting through the darkness.

Nightwing moved quietly. He had no clue where Deathstroke was, but the gnawing feeling in his stomach told him that the assassin knew he was there, and he was watching him. The warehouse wasn't too big, and it was pretty much condemned anyway. The piping along the walls did nothing to heat the place, and Nightwing suspected there was no power or plumbing in the abandoned building. He crept close to the shadows, noting a blur of white, and he stopped.

It was a girl. She stood, eyes alight with a fiery determination as she stared at him, her pointed chin held high. There was blood running from her nose, and though it was dark, he could make out the outline of dark bruises against her pale face. Had Deathstroke done this to her? Nightwing recalled Barbara's explanation of how Robin had slipped her, how he'd run after a girl. Well, she was no ally. That was certain.

"If you're looking for the bird brat," she said, her voice coarse. "You have to fight me."

"Really?" He studied her, the clothes she was wearing (which were not made for fighting), the way her long white hair hung around her shoulders in thick tangles. She was nothing short of a ragamuffin, and a child nonetheless (_like me, like all of us_). She had the look of a soldier though, and that was hard to swallow. "Well, I don't really have time for that, so…"

He flashed her a grin and jumped up, grabbing a pipe from the wall and throwing himself to the ceiling, where he caught another pipe. He used the piping as his own personal jungle gym, ignoring the pain that shot through his chest, and he clambering across the rows and rows of rusted pipes, listening as the girl tried to keep up. She wouldn't. As he moved, he slipped batarangs between the hanging pipelines, careful to spread them out. They would only cause small explosions. But it'd be enough.

Jason wasn't exactly hard to find. It wasn't a huge place. Still, Nightwing had little bit of uneasiness knowing he was cornering himself. The room was dark, and the windows inside it were all shattered. Jason sat, slumped against one wall, barefoot and battered. Worry shot through him, and he made a few hasty steps forward, his mind clouding in a rush. _He's going to get sick. Or frostbite. Or both._

When the girl entered the room behind him, close on his heels, the door slammed shut. Nightwing wasn't remotely surprised, but he hunched defensively over Jason anyway. He'd planted enough batarangs. He could send the signal now. He glared at Deathstroke, nudging Jason with his foot. The boy did not respond. He was drugged, likely, for his hands weren't bound by anything. They were simply limp at his sides.

He likened this experience to being stuck between two very hungry, very feral animals, chained to a fence, with a wounded leg and not a clue as to how to get them away. He turned to Deathstroke, hiding any fear or qualms, and he looked at the girl. She was tiny in comparison to the assassin, a child, a little girl, a teenager, maybe, but still too small to be doing anything like this. She had a ferocity to her that he admired, a determined gleam in her eyes that told him she would not stop.

"So you found him." Deathstroke did not betray his amusement, but Nightwing could sense it dripping from him, and it made him want to throw something. "I was expecting as much. I do wonder, though. Did you come alone?"

"You didn't." He jerked his head at the girl, who made a strange face. Her bloody nose seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind, and she glowered at him.

"Rose is but a piece in my play," Deathstroke explained. Nightwing blinked, surprised and sort of horrified that he revealed her name so… so _nonchalantly_, as if she meant nothing to him. She deserved more respect than that. "I sent her to retrieve you. It seems it's the only thing she has the capability to achieve without error."

The girl, Rose, looked mortified. She quickly composed herself, though her cheeks were tinted red from embarrassment. She did nothing more but stare at Nightwing, her lips turning into a scowl. Dick observed her, and he realized that she couldn't be just any kid. This girl was close to Deathstroke. She was… Nightwing felt sick in assuming, but it made sense. If Deathstroke had brought his daughter along for this, there was no certainty about his motives.

_She doesn't deserve this kind of life_, Nightwing thought glumly. _She could be like Artemis. She could get out. She doesn't need to become what her father wants her to be._ Nightwing wondered if he'd passed the five-minute limit yet. He flicked the detonator anyway.

The explosions rocked the warehouse, and Nightwing nabbed Jason's limp body while Rose and Deathstroke were momentarily distracted. He could _feel_ Deathstroke move to stop him, and Dick made a momentary, rash decision, that he knew he'd pay for later. He hugged Jason tightly to his chest, and flung himself out a window.

Glass shattered all around him, thankfully bouncing off the kevlar harmlessly. He hoped none of it damaged his new jacket, because the thing was pretty damn cool, and he felt himself in the clutches of nothing, air swooping all around him, and he twisted and moved, desperately to find a current of wind that suited him. He did, and he rolled with it.

He landed in the snow, ice diamonds jumping into the air on impact, dancing around them as the world spun, and a sharp pain shot through his shoulder, lingering on his chest and then spreading like a blaze. Jason was clutched tightly to his chest, and Nightwing had been sure to shield him from the fall, but he couldn't hold him any longer. He felt Jason's body slip, the snow crunching against him, and Nightwing let out a shuddering gasp. Cold was leaking through his suit, melting against his skin, and catching in his hair. It burned, awful and freezing, and when he tried to move he found that the pain was too much to bear. It was his shoulder, and his chest, and he choked on his own breath. It was dislocated. His shoulder was dislocated, and his stitches—

It had been dumb. Nightwing knew it then, and he knew it better now, but he'd gotten Jason. He'd done what he'd gone there to do. Now he had to get him home in one piece. Carefully, Nightwing sat up, his teeth cracking against each other as he fought through the pain and grabbed hold of his shoulder. The combination of the arm that was no longer in its socket, and the tearing skin of his chest, allowed Dick to grow dizzy with agony.

Jason awoke with a jolt, his body flailing in the snow for a moment before he heaved, gasping the winter air, and he sat up, his eyes tired and confused. He was shivering, which was to be expected from a boy who was laying in snow without shoes or gloves. The suit didn't give very much protection either. Jason blinked slowly, snowflakes melting in his hair, and catching on his eyelashes. He looked up at Nightwing, and he grinned.

"Took you long enough!" he chided. "_Love _your jacket, by the way. It really brings out the whites of your mask." It was then he seemed to note Nightwing's injuries. He scrambled quickly to his side, ignorant of the snow that could probably end up stealing one of his toes if they didn't get him out of it soon. Dried blood was cracking across the boy's temple, some of it still wet around the wound in question. Jason's fingers hovered over Nightwing's arm, fear flashing in his wide blue eyes.

They didn't have time to contemplate their next move. The snow shifted around them, crunching beneath the weight of the assassin who'd jumped after them. Landing with great ease on his feet. Nightwing could have landed better, and he knew that was his own fault, but the bandages around his chest were so tight and constricting, it totally threw him off balance. Nightwing stared up at Deathstroke, and he took a deep breath, flinging Jason away.

"Go," Nightwing hissed. "Get to my bike, and go."

"But—" Jason objected, his body going very stiff as his arm hung defensively over Dick's head. "I can't leave you— you can't make me leave you!"

Nightwing pulled himself shakily to his feet, letting go of his shoulder to grip Jason by the arm and toss him back, so he was out of Deathstroke's path. He was just in time, and he couldn't even find it in him to scream when the man's heavy boot came crashing against his chest, sending him flying backwards into the snow. He felt blood rushing from the throbbing chest wound that had reopened. His breath had been knocked from him, and he laid for a moment, stiff with shock and almost grateful for the cold snow. It didn't help the flame that spread across his chest, licking his ribs and jolting the rest of his body with fiery fingers, but it was a comfort. He didn't even want to think about his shoulder. Batman was going to be beyond pissed at this point.

He did nothing to stop Deathstroke from plucking him from the snow, as if Dick was nothing but a doll that had broken and fallen to the floor. Dimly, he could hear Jason swearing, and Nightwing allowed himself to go limp, his chest flaring with pain, and his shoulder pulsing with agonizing pangs, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. He could feel blood seeping through the bandages, through the kevlar— it'd show on his uniform soon.

"This is so pitiful," Deathstroke said, his head cocking. What was Dick to him? Prey? Or worse?_ I'm something else to him. A pet, or an experiment, or a toy_. It made him sick to think about. "I really did expect more of a challenge from you."

Nightwing's head lolled back, the pain near blinding as he looked Deathstroke in the eye. And then he grinned. The man reacted, but not fast enough. The fingers of his good hand had slipped under the folds of Deathstroke's mask, and Nightwing tugged, tucking in his knees and slamming his feet against the assassin. The force sent a jolt through Dick's body, and the mask clicked softly as it was pried away. Nightwing could feel Deathstroke's leg whistle below him as he flipped, his body curling against the air, and he staggered to his feet a few yards away.

The only thing Nightwing managed to glimpse was a shock of long white hair before another mask shielded Deathstroke's head from view, and suddenly there was snow flying in all directions, a swoop of black swallowing the assassin's form in a mass of dark shadow. Nightwing could hear the sound of fists meeting armor, and he stared, awed, as his mentor twisted and leapt and swung and parried. Deathstroke reacted just as swiftly, if not more violently, but Batman was volatile. He was dark, and he was fast, and he was pure power and silent rage. Cold rage. The winter night around them could not quite match the pure ice that the Dark Knight shrouded.

He was still clutching the mask tightly when he felt an arm slide around his waist. He was startled for only a moment, before he looked down and saw that it was just Batgirl, and she was being very careful to transfer some of his weight to her. Actually, she was exactly what he needed. He tucked Deathstroke's mask— one of many, it seemed— into his belt, and then swung his arm around Batgirl's neck. She pulled him away, whipping her cape over him to protect him from a blast of snow that whirled their way. Batman and Deathstroke seemed to be only warming up, and neither of them had landed anything near substantial blows. However, it was becoming obvious that Batman was winning. The way he moved was more erratic than usual, but it seemed to be paying off. Deathstroke was expecting something else. Something more calculated, more routine— more Batman. But in truth, Batman didn't need to follow his usual code of pulled punches and mapped out strategies. He was feeding off every move Deathstroke gave him, and pushing it back ten fold.

It was times like these that Dick remembered just how incredible Bruce was. He wasn't just powerful. He was mind-boggling. And it was a spectacle to watch, truly. But Nightwing couldn't stare for long. He turned to Batgirl, his fingers tightening around her arm.

"I need you to fix my shoulder," he said, watching her eyes go wide. "And I need something to bite on. Is there a stick anywhere around here?"

"Wait, you want me to…?" She looked down at his limp arm, and he could see her face go stark white in the darkness. "Nightwing…"

"You can do it." He pulled a strap from his belt— deciding it would serve— slipping it out of its buckle and dropping to his knees before her. "I trust you. Come on, you've seen medical dramas, you can do it."

"Just because I _can_ doesn't mean I _should_," she sighed, kneeling beside him. Her fingers rested tentatively on his arm, and he could hear her breathing become ragged from nervousness. She was doubting herself. She shouldn't be, not when she was doing so well as Batgirl. Tonight wasn't her fault. "And please don't ask me to trust anything I see on television, unless it's on the Discovery Channel or something."

"Mmhmm," he mumbled, shoving the belt strap between his teeth. He saw Jason a little ways away, causing his own spray of snow with a match against Rose. The girl seemed determined to fight, for one reason or another. Nightwing noticed that Jason had his belt, shoes, and gloves back. His cape was on the ground, discarded in the heat of battle. Or he was just too lazy to put it on. Dick trusted the latter, to be honest.

He felt Barbara's fingers run along his arm, cautiously picking a place to rest her hands. She bent his elbow, her eyes flashing to Nightwing's face, as if asking for permission to continue. He just stared at her blankly until she did, rotating his arm so it rested against his stomach. She bit her lip, nodding, likely to herself, as she mentally checked off what she needed to do.

"You know… it will be less painful if you lie down…"

He shook his head, beckoning her to go on. The belt strap was stuck firmly between his teeth, and he mentally prepared himself for the pain. He'd dislocated his shoulder before, so it wasn't a big deal. He just needed to be sure no further damage was done. He'd have Alfred check it out later.

Barbara slowly guided his arm outwards, planting her fingers firmly on his wrist, and she pushed upward. Nightwing's eyes widened for a moment as the pain enveloped him, and they snapped shut as he clamped down on the belt strap, his scream of pain muffled by his teeth against leather. His severe discomfort faded after a few moments, and relief washed over him. The pain was a ghost, and though he knew it was still there, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been. He found himself wincing, his teeth still grinding against the strap, and he took a deep breath through the nose and spat it out into the snow.

She was staring at him worriedly, her hands still pressed against his arm. He gave her a weak smile, and he pulled his arm back, testing its mobility. She halted him, and stood up, rushing through the snow and grabbing Robin's cape. He wasn't using it, and she was only tacking off the steps in her head. Of course she was doing everything she knew how to keep Dick from hurting himself further. It was kind of her.

The makeshift sling was a comfort, and he was grateful to her for making it. She was being very tender with him, speaking softly, as if she was talking to a child. He didn't really understand it, but part of him enjoyed the attention, so he let it go on. Barbara was helping him, and who was he to deny her that?

He was forced to watch as Barbara moved to join Robin's fight, and the tide had turned rather abruptly. Batgirl was obviously in better shape than both younger teens, and she had Rose's sword in her grasp within a minute. It seemed Batgirl was far past the point of playing, and Nightwing didn't blame her. He was tired too, and he wanted to go home and forget about this experience.

One sharp hit with the pummel of the sword to Rose's head, and she was sprawled in the snow. Nightwing pitied her, and part of him wished they could take her with them when they left tonight. If only to spare her from Deathstroke in the future, and the pain and chaos she would wreak if she was trained properly as an assassin. But they were not going to kidnap the girl. They didn't work like that. If she wanted to leave her father, Nightwing would gladly oblige in taking her to Mount Justice as soon as possible. Of course, she had expressed no desire to do so, and thus he could not help. Directly.

If he ever got the chance to meet her again, he begged he could wiggle his way into her head and convince her to rethink her actions. She was young enough that she could be swayed, and old enough to understand right from wrong. Also, it would be nice to have someone around who knew Deathstroke. Really, the more Nightwing thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. If only it could be a reality.

Nightwing wasn't surprised to find that the fight was practically over by this point. Deathstroke was losing against Batman, and Rose was down. Retreat was imminent… but then, why did Nightwing feel so anxious? Everything was happening in a blur, the defeat of Deathstroke, the snappy comment of Jason's, and the cold stare down between the Dark Knight and the Terminator as the wind picked up. Before Batman could make another move, an explosion rocked the earth around them, and a blast of fire separated Deathstroke from his possible doom. He was gone when the fire fizzled out, and the smoke cleared.

By now, Nightwing couldn't even pretend to be surprised.

* * *

He woke up the next morning, and he felt much better. Dick's shoulder would be fine, and it would move just about as normally as usual by tomorrow, which he was thankful for. Wearing a sling to school would be torturous. Of course, the lecture he'd gotten had been a pain, but he'd been expecting it. He threw a lot on the line with the way he'd handled the rescue. But, hey, he had only been trying to be spontaneous. Catching Deathstroke off guard had been his primary goal, and it'd worked. He got a mask. He wondered if he'd be able to put it in the souvenir room.

Dick did have to wonder how the assassin had the foresight to bring an extra, but hey, who was he to judge?

It was becoming clear that Deathstroke wasn't going to give up his information on the Bats, which was a huge relief. Relief was really the only thing Dick could feel as he balanced his cereal bowl in one hand, dragging out a kitchen chair with the crook of his foot. Jason had a concussion. Again. And apparently he had no appetite for anything, or need for sleep, because he was already out and about, roaming the house, fully clothed and patched up. Jason usually slept in on Sundays, as a way to compensate for an entire week of stolen slumber and long nights.

Dick was chomping down on some Lucky Charms when Jason wandered into the kitchen, tossing a box onto the table. Dick glanced at it, and continued chewing, his eyebrow cocking at the younger boy. He plopped down onto the chair beside Dick, his blue eyes glassy and unblinking. The dark circles under his eyes were particularly prominent, and suddenly Dick realized that there was something wrong.

"What is it?" Dick asked, dropping his spoon and grasping Jason by the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Jason looked up at Dick, and he looked so pale, his skin was taking an almost sallow hue. He jerked his chin at the box, and Dick saw his shoulders shaking. "I found it on my window sill," he said, his voice hollow.

Dick was no longer hungry. His stomach was turning in discomfort as he pushed his cereal away, carefully slipping the box into his hands. It was small, a ringbox, maybe. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to know. But, of course, he had to. He pried the top of the box away, and he was greeted with the most gruesome sight he'd seen in… well, a while.

The eye was blue. Or it had been, once, when it had been attached to a head. He could see the film that clouded the disembodied eyeball, discoloring the iris and causing the entire body of it to become rather soupy in texture, as if it were melting against the bottom of the box. There was blood too, but it seemed rather insignificant in comparison to the small, goopy eye that sat, severed from its owner.

"Ravager… _Rose_…" Jason murmured, and Dick's stomach turning to ice and then shattering into sharp, spindly shards. He might have doubted the chance of Deathstroke harming his own daughter in such a way— but the note scrawled across the lid of the box told him otherwise.

_An eye for an eye._

_Perhaps this gift will allow you_

_To see the light_?

* * *

_Uh, right. So I tried my hand at Rose Wilson, because I figured I needed to make this interesting. This entire arc was to tie up Deathstroke's part in the story (as best as I could), since he's going to be introduced in the show tomorrow. I'm sorry if I messed her up. =/ I tried my best with what little I've seen of her. _

_If you're wondering, Jason just jumped to the conclusion that it was Rose because he spent a pretty good chunk of his time in this chapter staring at her eyes. Dunno how he'd recognize it, considering it was probably deformed by this point. Whatever. Oh, that note is pretty much as much as you're going to get of the Apprentice storyline from me. It's like, in translation, "So, I've got a spot open here for an apprenticeship, and my daughter disappointed me, so if you're interested, just give me a call, and we can work something out." it's a hint at something that will never happen because it doesn't fit anywhere in my plans or in canon._

_i think i'm super funny okay_

_I'm also not happy with this chapter at all, and I rushed the ending because it got SO LONG, IT KEEPS GETTING LONGER. I'm sorry. _

_Anyway, please review!_


	14. Tabula Rasa

**fall and fail**

**{tabula rasa}**

Jason Todd spent his afternoon sitting in the vice principal's office. It was a glum February day, and a faint spray of rain was pattering against the windowsill as he scowled at the woman, his feet planted firmly against the floor as he glowered at the slim rivulets that slipped down the foggy glass.

"Mr. Todd," the woman sighed. She was older, her face grim and lined with age. Her hair was cropped short and graying, and she had the face of a person who had a very stringent perspective on how children should behave. Jason had a great distaste for her face, and the way she watched him, as if he was a common criminal. She did not hide her judgment that he was a gutter rat, and that seriously pissed him off. "All you have to do is admit to it, and then you can leave."

Jason met her gaze, his eyes narrowing as the sharp blue met a solemn black. He leaned back, tired of this conversation already. He'd been sitting in his gloom for nearly ten minutes, and he could tell she had lost her patience at least seven minutes ago, but he really didn't care.

"Admit to something ridiculous that I didn't do?" Jason sucked a breath, his fingers drumming against the side of the oaken armrests. The chair was soft and cushy, as he'd expect from the prestigious Gotham Academy. "Yeah, no thanks."

"I know for a fact that you were quarreling with Mr. Rainwood earlier in the week," she said. She pressed her lips together, allowing the already thin skin to form a skinny line. Jason scoffed. Trey Rainwood wasn't really a huge pain in the ass, and sometimes he and Jason were actually friendly, but the guy deserved the fat lip he got for insulting Dick Grayson. Jason wouldn't allow that shit to go down, and people were aware of it. Usually. "He's in the hospital, Mr. Todd. You must understand how serious this is."

"I did _not_ do that," Jason insisted, a little offended that everyone assumed he was a thug because of his history as a street kid. "Look, Trey and I scuffled a little after school on Tuesday. I punched him. I can admit to that, and yeah, he punched me back, and we got into a little fight, but seriously? We got over it, and then we were even. Why the hell would I go after him again?"

"I don't know, Mr. Todd." She leaned forward, her fingers splaying across he desk. "You tell me."

"I didn't beat him up!" Jason gritted his teeth, his fingers grasping the armrests to keep himself from blowing up at the vice-principal. "You guys have security systems! You should have been able to pick up who beat him up, and known it wasn't me! I was with my friends last night, not beating the shit out of a kid who I already got back at! And I've already been punished for that! In-school suspension and three detentions, remember? We've been over this! I wouldn't—!"

Jason broke off with a swear as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The silence in the office allowed the woman to notice the soft hum of the phone, and she scowled at him, and held out her hand. Jason stared at her, his shoulders hunching defensively, and he growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and withdrawing the phone. Reluctantly, he handed it to her, and collapsed back into his chair with a sneer.

The vice-principal simply watched him with a stony expression, and she pressed the phone to her ear, flicking the screen. "Excuse me, but Jason Todd is not currently available. Nor should he have his cellphone on his person during school hours."

Jason rolled his eyes, wondering if it was Dick. He'd gone on a mission the night previous, knowing it would be an overnight affair. If all went well, he was probably on his way back. He hoped he had the grace to at least pretend to be sick. Jason watched as the woman's eyes narrowed, and then they rose, meeting Jason's. Something shone inside them, a startled look that forced her to bow her head and nod vacantly.

"I see," she murmured. "No trouble, Mr. Wayne. I apologize for the mix up, but this— I'm sorry?" She stared at Jason, her eyes flashing in horror. Ah, so the bitch did have a heart. Great. Jason found himself perking up when he realized that Bruce had bothered to call to save him from the stupidity of his elders. "I… was not aware of that. Yes. I understand, Mr. Wayne, of course, we'll have him gather his things immediately— oh. Of course." She frowned at Jason, her eyes suddenly glazing, and she handed the phone off to him. Jason stared at her blankly for a moment, before pressing the receiver to his ear.

"Bruce?" Jason asked curiously. Something squirmed in his stomach, the flutter of confusion that settled in when he realized he was not only free from the accusation of putting a kid in the hospital, but given leave for an early dismissal. Somebody needed Robin, and suddenly Jason's day had gotten a whole lot better. And then he heard Bruce's voice rumble in his ear, and it got a whole lot worse.

"Dick has been compromised."

Jason felt himself freeze, eyes flashing fearfully upward toward the goddamn vice-principal, and he felt something seize his chest, fury and worry and bewilderment. He quickly looked away, jumping to his feet and turning his back to the woman, angry that she was around to see him get so panicked. "What do you mean? Is he… is he okay?"

"As far as we know, he's alive," Bruce replied. "Alfred will be there in five minutes to retrieve you and Barbara. I'm in a meeting right now, so I'm trusting the Team. Good luck."

The line went dead, leaving Jason with his frustration, and he felt his fingers shaking in rage as he nearly whipped his phone at the nearest wall. He didn't, though. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that Dick wouldn't get so crazy, he'd be calm, and Jason had to be better than that. He had to, or else…

"Damn it," he spat, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He did not look back at the vice principal, who shouted at him in surprise when he bolted out of the room, his feet moving fast as he shoved his way through the crowd of students that were coming from the cafeteria, a lunch that he'd missed. They cried out in alarm as he fought through the throng and hopped over the stairwell, his fingers flying to his grossly gelled hair, and he let them part the thick strands, ruffling them into a messy array of dark spikes. He hated hair gel, and he hated the way it made his hair nasty and thick and hard as a frigging brick, but he was not going on a mission with his hair slicked back like he'd just stepped out of a performance of _Grease_.

"Jason!" He felt someone grab his shoulder forcing him to halt, and he spun around, facing Barbara with a furious glower. She stepped back, her hands flinging into the air. She had her messenger bag slung across her chest, and her jacket hanging limply in one hand. "Okay, from your expression, I'm guessing this isn't the usual type of dismissal."

"It's Dick," Jason hissed, grabbing her arm and yanking her forward, speeding down the stairs. He stopped at his locker, his fingers flying and twisting the lock without much care. He flung the door open, ignoring the loud crash as the metal banged against another door. He grabbed his backpack, slamming the door shut and jerked his head, forcing the crowd of students to part for him. They were staring in surprise, but soon they simply shook their heads and went back to their own business. He felt Barbara stick close, her body a little more rigid as she prepared herself mentally for whatever was to come.

"Is he okay?" she breathed. They were nearing the front door, and he could tell she was already formulating worst-case scenarios. "I know he said that it was… classified, but I didn't think…"

"I dunno, Babs," Jason hissed. "I really don't friggin' know, but we're gonna find him. And then beat the shit out of him for screwing up. Sound like a plan?"

Barbara looked at him, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her coat, and she nodded slowly, managing a soft smile. "Yeah," she murmured. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

His fingers hurt. They really, really hurt. He bit his lip, shaking his head as the doctors bustled around him, staunching the blood and forcing him to swallow something. He didn't object, and he just wished they'd make the pain go away. He remembered falling asleep after hearing something about _prints_ and _identification_. He didn't understand what that had meant. He wanted to go back to sleep though. Sleep was nice, and clear.

"Do you think this one is defective?" asked one of the nice doctors, a swarthy young man who looked at him with a dark gaze full of indifference. It was a mask. Somehow he knew that it was a mask. He could feel his dark tinted sunglasses slide down his nose, and he rocked himself, looking around the office. A girl had been pulled in earlier, and she'd seen him and shouted something, but she'd been quickly pushed behind a curtain, and he had no idea who she was.

"No," replied an older doctor, this one a female. She was plain looking, and callously figured, her eyes a bold and soullessly blue. He didn't like her very much. "We were told to expect abnormalities from this one, if you recall. We should have been monitoring him better."

"Maybe," the younger doctor sighed. "But he's damaged himself, and now we can't get a real ID on him."

"We'll see." The female doctor looked at him, and he felt her stare go right through him. He flinched, and looked down at his bloody fingers, choking back screams as they sprayed the skinless fingertips with something that burned. He twisted away from the young doctor, shaking his head profusely.

"Stop!" he begged, his lower lip trembling, and he tugged his hands back. "That hurts!"

They slapped some bandages on his quivering fingers just as they dragged the girl out from behind the curtain. She looked at him, and he saw terror gleaming in her ashen eyes as she struggled against the doctors, but she looked too sluggish to truly move. She had long blonde hair that hung to her waist, fluttering as she tossed her head back and swore very loudly. He simply stared at her, and he smiled, and waved his bloody fingers at her.

"Oh my god," she gasped, somehow wrenching herself free and stumbling toward him, her limbs jerky and appearing heavy. He felt like that too. Like he was too heavy. It was weird, but he felt like he needed to be much lighter, and twisty and stuff. He didn't know. "What did they do to you? Nightwing? Look at me, you idiot!"

Nightwing. Was that his name? They called him _Noxala_ before. The doctors just referred to him as _this one_. He couldn't recall if this was his name. He couldn't recall anything before being here. He'd always been here, hadn't he? It felt as if this was so. He didn't know. He truly didn't.

"I did something bad," he admitted, his fingers twitching beneath the bandages. He peered at the girl, and he smiled bigger, because she had a pretty face, and it was almost… familiar. Comforting. "Do I know you?"

She looked broken then. He didn't get it. It reminded him of when he'd had ate earlier in the day, and dropped a plate by accident. It had broken apart in a bunch of tiny pieces, shattered, broken, broken, broken, and he felt sick suddenly, thinking of shattered bones and blood and glassy, unseeing eyes…

They dragged her away, and he watched in awe as she screamed and thrashed, wild as an animal. But it didn't matter. He wasn't sure if anything mattered. He could recall the basics of living. He knew he was an acrobat. He liked that. He didn't know much else. Oh, he liked cereal! Yeah… and his fingers hurt. That was his fault. He had no idea how, but he knew it was.

When they released him, he tried to find the girl again. He liked her pretty hair, and he liked her kind face, and he liked how she fought. He wished he could fight like that. He didn't have much fight left in him though. He wandered around the facility, which was very bright and clean and there were lots of people wandering around like him, confusedly searching for their purpose here. He'd been told not to get attached.

He found the boy he'd spent breakfast with sitting stiffly across from a door. It was a door he knew, bulky and shimmery in comparison to the blank slated walls that rose around them in a maze, a maze for rats, that was what he was, an experiment, and he needed to run, but he couldn't— why was his mind so cloudy? He couldn't allow himself to care. He sat down beside the boy, who was dark and quiet and patient and honorable. When first wandering around that morning, he'd chosen to stick with the dark skinned boy with pale hair and eyes. He gave a strange sensation of consistency and it was reliable. Better than the fog of his mind, anyway.

The boy looked down at him, and he looked sad. He felt sad too. He wanted to cry, and his fingers hurt. The boy stared at him, and then at his hands, and he shook his head. "You are bleeding," the boy observed. He nodded in response.

"My fingers are burning," he whined, flexing the bandages and jerking his hands at the boy. He caught them and turned them over in his own hands, bending forward to examine them with eerily light eyes. He could hear screams coming from beyond the door, but he didn't understand them. He didn't get how they were pained, and panicked, and full of unadulterated fear. That capability to comprehend had been torn from him.

"I see," replied the boy. His skin was strangely dark in comparison to his own complexion. He was very careful, though, and he handled his hands as if they belonged to a child. He felt like a child. His mind was fuzzy, and he didn't understand, and no one would explain to him. "Who did this to you?"

_Noxala_, Nightwing, this one… he simply stared up at the boy, oblivious to the screams that came from beyond the door. He looked down at his bandaged fingers, and he bowed his head in shame. "Me," he said. "I did it. I took a knife from the doctors, and I did it. I did something bad."

The boy's eyes rose, widening in surprise, and he held his hands a little tighter, a little more reassuringly. His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were sympathetic. "Oh, don't say that," sighed the boy. "Don't… you are not bad. I know that. I… am not sure how I know it. But I feel it. You have done nothing wrong, my friend."

"It hurts..." he murmured, tears stinging his eyes behind the dark glasses. He shuddered, and he looked at the door, listening to the screams. "This place hurts. I don't like it. I don't want to be here anymore!"

The boy studied him with his wise, eerie eyes, and he sighed. Very gently the boy pulled him into an embrace, holding him as he began to cry. It did not occur to either of them that this was weak. They were spared their discomfort by their lack of memory, but inkling of friendship. The older boy did nothing but hold him as he shook, tearfully trying to determine the cause of his sadness. It might be because of the girl screaming behind the door.

"They told me we will not be here much longer," the boy assured. He gave a tentative pat on the head, frowning in confusion as they both settled into a vacant daze as they watched the door. The screams were gone now. _She's dead_, a part of him thought bitterly. _They killed her, like they killed me. Run! Run, stupid!_

"That doesn't make me feel better," he sniffled. _They'll take us someplace worse. They'll take more. They'll keep taking until we're nothing but empty shells_.

"I'm sorry." The boy held him close, hunching in a strangely defensive way as doctors walked past, shooting them funny looks, as if they were disbelieving the way they clutched each other in terror. "I… I would very much like it, I think, if we went to the same place."

He found himself nodding in agreement. "I'd like that too," he croaked, wiping his eyes with bandaged hands.

The boy sat up, his celadon eyes growing wide as he turned to face him. His face had turned bright, hopefulness glowing in his raised eyebrows, and the boy clutched his shoulders tightly. "Then we shall," he said, nodding curtly. "I will not leave without you."

"But what if they take us someplace bad?" _Noxala_… Nightwing? He had this gut feeling that things would only get worse. The pain would get more unbearable, and the cloudiness of his mind would break him. He knew this. He didn't know much, but he knew this. The boy merely smiled, the corners of his lips twitching sadly.

"Oh, my friend," he sighed, his pale green eyes clouded in the same uncertainty that clung to Nightwing. "Can it be any worse than where we are now? They will only harm us here. I feel as if I am a prisoner. I am no slave, nor are you."

_I'm his friend_, Nightwing thought gleefully. _And we're not slaves. We're people! He's my friend. If he believes that we'll be better off, then I trust him. I trust him with my life. But why do I feel so bad?_

He opened his mouth to respond to his friend, but the shimmery door opened, and he was suddenly distracted. He sat up straighter, and he smiled brightly at the girl, waving his hands eagerly as she blinked dazedly, stepping carefully out of the bad room. She looked as if she had just been born, bright eyed and small, her fingers tangled in prayer as her eyes landed on him and his friend. Those eyes were no longer sharp and desperate and sad. The ash color in her eyes was bleaker, dreary like a nightly overcast. Smoggy, chilly, unwelcoming… familiarity sprung from those eyes, reminding him of someplace he might have visited in a dream.

"Your hair's gone," Nightwing gasped, jumping to his feet. The girl blinked slowly, and her fingers rose and slid against the shortened yellow strands. Her hair had been so long and pretty, flowing down to her waist and swishing when she moved. Now it was hanging around her shoulders limply, jagged at the ends as if it had been hastily cropped with sheers. Her warm colored skin was now pallid, colorless from stress or fear or pain or sickness. He didn't know.

"Oh," she said. That was all. Her voice was blank, and she appeared to be very sensitive to the light around her. Her sharp eyes were twitching at the white walls. Behind her, a man prodded her back, and she stumbled forward into the hall, looking around wildly.

His friend took it upon himself to catch her before she fell, and he led her to their bench. Nightwing knew now that he watched the girl, the one who had spoken his name so familiarly. He'd been like her before entering the room. He didn't remember that. He remembered exiting though, and he remembered feeling so scared, so raw— it had been the feeling of helplessness and confusion, and the sad emptiness that settled in his mind. It had been overwhelming.

"Don't be scared," urged his friend. She was shaking against his arms, her eyes flashing wildly. "We were waiting for you."

"Yeah!" Nightwing's tears were in the past. His focus was this blonde girl, who had known him somehow, but now she did not. He felt as if he knew her as well. That didn't make sense to him, but perhaps…? It was the same with his fair-haired, dark-skinned friend. The sense of trust that pulled them together was buried beneath their bewilderment and fear, but it was still there. It was stronger than anything else, like an invisible string of steel. "You called me Nightwing."

She looked at him, and there was no recognition.

"Where… are we?" she asked, her voice thick. She shuddered, and she held her head, leaning into his friend's embrace. "Who are you?"

"_Noxala_," Nightwing answered. Nightwing. He knew now. _Noxala_ meant Nightwing. That made sense. "You called me Nightwing. I like that better."

"They… did not specify my name," his friend said, frowning. He looked up as a doctor stood in the doorway, watching them with cold eyes. "Do not panic. We merely wish to help you."

"They called me… _Sagitta_. I think. I don't know." The girl pulled away from his friend, her lips twisting in distaste. "I don't know.

_Sagitta_, a voice in his head whispered. _Arrow_.

"_Sagitta_ is correct," the doctor said. His eyes were on his friend, who was taking it upon himself to shield Nightwing and _Sagitta_. Arrow. The girl. What was her name? "For now, this is what she will be called, until we are given clearance to call her by something else. For instance… Kaldur'ahm?"

It took Nightwing's friend a few moments to realize that the doctor was referring to him. He looked at the doctor, and suddenly his face was stony. The blonde girl was looking at him, and he was growing defensive, taking on an air of authority. He turned his head up at the doctor, and he nodded.

"That is my name," he said firmly. His eyes narrowed distrustfully. "Why did I not know that?"

"Because we did not want you to."

"What?" the girl croaked, scrambling forward. Nightwing grabbed her around the waist, shocked by her sudden movements. She halted, her body falling back against his chest, and she stared up at the man with large eyes. "What does that mean? What's going on? You didn't explain. I want answers."

"In due time. Until then, I suggest you and _Noxala_ go busy yourselves. Kaldur'ahm, your father is here to retrieve you."

"My…?" Kaldur'ahm looked startled, and his confusion was written all across his face. He shook his head, squeezing his pale eyes shut and grabbing his forehead. "I do not understand. Why can I not remember? I recall my name now, yes, but… my father? You're certain?"

"I don't want to go anywhere without my friend," Nightwing declared. The doctor merely ignored him.

"I'm sorry. You had an accident, Kaldur'ahm. You've forgotten."

"No." Kaldur'ahm looked up, his eyes flashing in horror. "That's not true."

"It is."

"You are mistaken," he hissed. "You call my loss of memory an accident, when it is clear to me that you are the cause of it. You hurt this girl, and my comrade, Nightwing, before her. I was here. I allowed it to happen. Why did I do that?"

"I don't know, Kaldur'ahm," said the Doctor, his eyes dead and his voice flat. "Why did you?"

Nightwing held the girl tighter, looking up at Kaldur'ahm with wide eyes. He'd let them get hurt? But that wasn't fair… was it? Oh, he was so confused! Kaldur'ahm looked confused too. He looked at Nightwing and the girl, and his eyes flashed with fear.

"I don't… I do not know—" He looked down, shame evident in his eyes. "Forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Come, Kaldur'ahm," the doctor said. "Your father is waiting."

Kaldur'ahm's eyes raised, meeting the doctor's and he shook his head. "My friends—" he said softly.

"They are not your friends. You only just met them."

"I won't leave them." He stood up, his brow furrowing over his eyes, darkening them to the point of determination. "You cannot force me to."

The doctor merely sighed. Nightwing's arms tightened protectively around the dazed blonde girl, who didn't seem to understand what was happening. When the doctor pressed his hand to his ear, Nightwing felt the inexplicable urge to run. He didn't, not even when he found that they were being swarmed, men in dark clothing appearing from nowhere… Or perhaps he just hadn't paid enough attention. But they were there now, and the girl in his arms, jerked forward, shrieking in surprise as the men grabbed Kaldur'ahm by the arms.

He stood no chance. He pushed at them, but he, like Nightwing and the girl, was far too dazed and unsure to fight them off properly. If he knew how to, he did not recall it. He cried out as he was pushed away from his friend, and he felt sad again. He met Kaldur'ahm's eyes, and there was a moment that passed where they seemed to read each other's thoughts. His pale green gaze apologized for him, and asked him to take care. Of himself, and the girl. Nightwing felt _sick_.

But he nodded anyway, tugging the thrashing girl off her feet and spinning her away from the men, hunching protectively over her as the men took Kaldur'ahm away. Nightwing wanted to scream, and his head hurt so badly, but he just didn't know. He didn't know anything, and that left him feeling broken.

_Who am I_, he thought as the men ushered him and the girl away. _What did they do to me?_

* * *

Barbara and Jason had changed out of their school uniforms and into their hero uniforms while in the car. Jason couldn't help but be amused at how _shy_ Barbara was, while he stripped down in front of her within seconds, and remained completely unabashed. It wasn't as if they were naked, or anything, so he didn't understand why she made him close his eyes. They were practically family, weren't they? Maybe it was a girl thing.

"We can track down the person who really beat him up later," Batgirl was saying as Alfred dropped them off at the hidden phonebooth zeta-tube. "I, personally, am more worried about the fact that you had to miss lunch because of this."

Jason rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Barbara," he said gently. "I've gone longer than an afternoon without eating anything. Don't worry."

She paused, her fingers hovering over the phonebooth's out of order sign. She looked down, and said stiffly, "Well, it still shouldn't be allowed. You can't just forbid a kid from eating."

Jason didn't want to point out that they _could_, and they _had_, so he simply shrugged, beckoning her to move into the zeta-tube. She looked at him, her blue eyes big and sad behind her cowl. Then she steeled herself, and nodded, disappearing behind the door. The phonebooth lit up, and then she was gone and it was his turn.

When he appeared beside her in the cave, he bit his lip and looked up at her, grabbing her arm before she could go anywhere. "Hey," he whispered, looking down at his feet. She stared at him curiously. "Just— just don't tell Bruce or Dick about the lunch thing, okay?"

"Jason," Barbara said calmly, "someone needs to take care of this. They can't just get away with not letting you eat—"

"But I don't care," Jason hissed, his grip on her wrist tightening. "And I'd rather not make a big deal about it, so please? Do us all a favor and don't get the papa wolves all riled up over nothing."

Barbara's lips twisted into a grimace, and he could tell she understood exactly what he was feeling. Her dad was the commissioner, and overprotective to boot. She nodded, though, and he grinned, giving her an affectionate shove as he spun away from her. "Right, then! Rescue time!" He cackled and ran from her, his cape flapping behind him.

He really liked Barbara. She wasn't clingy and hyperactive like Dick, and though she was incredibly intelligent, she didn't like to flaunt it. She had a dry sort of humor that he appreciated very much, and though she was the most serious out of the three of them, she was definitely the most fun to hang around. She was their level-headed comrade, their Batman with a softened heart, and less brood.

Since becoming a ward of Bruce Wayne, Jason had learned a lot about people. He'd thought he knew about people before from observing the trash that wandered around, intoxicated and under the influence, in crime alley, but no. People were more complex than their trashy actions and coarse words. They put on fronts to hide what they really felt. Take Dick. He was all smiles and jokes and eager hugs, but beneath that, he was callous and jaded and depressed. Jason at times found him alone in his room, doing nothing but staring out the window, or at the Flying Grayson poster on his wall. It wasn't the kind of depression he was used to dealing with, the feeling of desolation that crept at his mind whenever he was left alone for too long. It was more like… Dick had a scar on his heart, and as time wore on, it only grew more prominent.

But Dick was still his best friend. Jason would never admit it, but it was true, and Dick was truly the person Jason relied on for almost everything he couldn't rely on himself for. The rest went to Bruce, who was also a startling addition to Jason's heart. It was Jason's purpose in life to become the Robin that Batman could be proud of, to be better than Dick had ever been, and to make up to Bruce everything that he had done for him. The first few months had been a constant fear of rejection, hidden carefully by mouthy comments and wrestling and meager hopes. Then, after he'd been given the chance to become Robin, he realized that this was it. This was his home. He truly had one now, and it was going to be like this, with Bruce and Dick and Alfred, and he loved it. He _loved_ them. They had seen a scruffy kid with a bad attitude and a talent for theft, and they'd decided that he could be something more.

He would be indebted to them forever. And strangely, he was okay with that. _It's not like I'm leaving any time soon_, he reasoned. _I have plenty of time left in Gotham to prove myself. I guess I should start by not getting into fights… yeah, nah, I'll just stick with good grades and less property damage._

If someone had told him two years ago that his life would end up looking so bright, he'd have punched them so hard their teeth would have been imbedded in the back of their throat. Sometimes he didn't know how to cope with it— he could be someone in the world. He could go to college, and be smart, and show people that he was smart, and he could do it! It was a long way off, but the fact that he had a real chance at something… better. It was almost overwhelming.

"Robin!" Garfield gasped, running over when he entered the room, shifting his form in midair. Jason caught his friend as a small green cat, and he found himself amused as he cradled the Beast Boy kitten to his chest. Garfield mewed and pawed at Jason's cape, before he shifted back to a boy and clung to him with shaky fingers. "Did Batman say anything about M'gann? Is she okay? Is she coming home?"

Jason was sort of shocked to find the green boy holding onto him so tightly. Sure, he and Gar were friends, but he never had to comfort the boy before. He didn't really know how. He looked up at Batgirl, his eyes big and pleading, and she quickly took over, her fingers landing on Garfield's shoulder. The boy looked up at her with glistening green eyes.

"Garfield," Barbara said gently, prying him from Robin's cape. "M'gann was on the mission with Nightwing, right?"

Beast Boy nodded, biting his lip to contain his tears. Jason kind of pitied him. M'gann was like, his entire life, pretty much. They were in similar positions, only Garfield was still so fresh out of watching his mother die… of course he'd be distraught. Who could blame him?

"They were supposed to be back by now," Garfield croaked. "Why aren't they back?"

"They hit a little bump in the road," Barbara assured, bending down so she was eyelevel with Garfield. Jason was surprised by how soft her voice was, and how adept she seemed to be at this sort of thing. "But we're going to bring them home, so don't worry."

"Is Batman coming?"

Barbara shook her head, and Beast Boy looked down. She quickly amended this, and pushed his hair from his eyes, smiling gently as she seemed to calm him with a look. "Don't worry," she repeated. "Nightwing and Miss Martian are the stealthiest members of the Team. They're just waiting for us to come find them."

"What about Aqualad and Artemis?"

Robin looked up, and saw that Tula and Zatanna had appeared before them, looking worried and confused. Tula had been the one to speak, but Zatanna looked equally as worried. To be honest, Robin knew close to nothing about this mission. He hadn't even known who had accompanied Nightwing, and finding it out now was… pretty jarring. Thankfully, Barbara came to his rescue again.

"Batman sent me the mission details," she said, rising to her feet. "I looked at them on my way here, and as far as we know, Aqualad and Artemis are fine too. But we need to get to them fast."

"Okay, wait, explain," Robin said, holding up his hands in alarm. "So Nightwing, Miss Martian, Aqualad, and Artemis went on a mission last night… and what?"

Barbara shook her head. "We don't know," she said, pushing past Zatanna and Tula and motioning for them to follow her. "The facility they were infiltrating… Batman didn't give the details, but I can only assume they were caught."

"Hey, why did he text you the details and not me?" Robin whined, right on her heels as she marched up to the computer. Red Tornado was watching from afar, while Superboy and Tempest frowned beside him. They both looked worried for their missing friends.

"Ask him," Batgirl replied, her fingers flying across the screen as she pulled up multiple tabs. "Okay, I so the facility is in China. It's supposed to be a branch of Cadmus that deals with neuroscience, but apparently they broke ties with Cadmus years ago, and have been running on their own terms since 2002."

"What was the mission?" Zatanna asked, frowning up at the monitor. A picture of the facility glowed eerily back at her. "Doesn't seem like it was simple recon to me."

"Is recon ever simple?" Jason sighed. Zatanna shot him a smile of agreement.

It was Red Tornado who replied. "Aqualad, Nightwing, Miss Martian, and Artemis were given the orders to place themselves in a situation that might allow them to be captured by the neuroscientists who run this facility," said the robot. "There have been many missing persons around this area, and if they were captured, it was a confirmation that this facility is abducting citizens. It is clear, now, that that is the case."

"They were sent on a mission to get caught?" Superboy demanded angrily. "Shouldn't there have been a beta team to bail them out?"

"No," Barbara said, her eyes still on the screen. "This place… its security is like… nothing I've seen before. There's trip wire upon trip wire— I don't mean literally, I mean in the security codes. One false move, and the entire place goes under lockdown."

"But we're going to get them now," Conner stated. He glowered at Barbara's back. "We are, aren't we?"

"As soon as Wally gets here," Batgirl said. She sounded frightened, as if she wasn't sure they would actually be able to do it. He didn't understand. The would be able to get in and rescue them, right? "The only way in is through the vents, though… I'm sorry, Superboy, but you won't fit through them."

That seemed to make Conner pause and think. Only for a moment though, before he simply scowled and shook his head. "I'm still coming," he said indignantly. "I'll wait behind with Sphere."

"Okay, wait," Jason sighed, shaking his head. "Whose bright idea was it to put our leader and his three best next-in-commands on the same highly dangerous mission?"

"I believe," Red Tornado said, "that it was due to the results of the examination of your individual improvisation skills."

"What?" Jason asked the robot flatly.

The team members looked at each other, blinking confusedly. "Um, are you talking about those theater games from last month, Red?" Zatanna asked.

"That would be correct."

"Of course," Batgirl said, her tone void of emotion. "They were all tests. Aqualad, Nightwing, Artemis, and M'gann dominated at those games, so obviously they got picked for a mission that relies heavily on acting."

"Am I the only one still surprised that Aqualad got into character so well?" Jason asked, mostly to no one. They didn't care at the moment about Aqualad's astounding acting skills— which were awesome, Jason admitted it. The games they'd played ranged from one worded story-telling to actual improv skits prompted by situations pulled from a hat. Kaldur had taken a very strange route when he'd been pushed into a thuggish character. It had been rather eerie, and everyone chose to forget about how much it creeped them out.

"Batman wants me, Robin, Superboy, Kid Flash, and Aquagirl to rescue them," Barbara said slowly, turning around to face the team members around her. "He… didn't specify who he wanted the Leader to be. So discuss that amongst yourselves."

"Why not you?" Superboy asked, cocking an eyebrow. Barbara simply stared at him, blinking twice, and shaking her head.

"I'm not qualified," she replied.

"Why don't you lead, Supes?" Jason suggested, grinning broadly. "You've been around the longest— oh, except Kid Flash. But I'm not sure if I trust him to not flip out on this mission, since it's Artemis _and_ Nightwing on the line. They might as well have taken one of his legs."

"Would it not be in our best interest for one of you to lead?" Tula asked, taking a few steps forward and peering at Barbara with large eyes. "This assignment require stealth, that's obvious, and you two are our greatest assets when it comes to that."

"I would _gladly_ lead you all into battle," Jason quipped. "But… I don't think I'm the right person to be giving orders when Wingnut's life is on the line."

_If he died_, Jason thought, his stomach twisting. _It would be all my fault. I'd have to take full responsibility for everything that goes wrong. And what would Batman say if I screwed up?_

"Then we're at a stalemate," Tula sighed, closing her eyes.

"You _have_ been trained by Batman, haven't you?" Garth asked, pushing off the wall and stepping up before Jason. The boy simply looked up at Tempest, his eyes rolling behind his mask. Instead he simply gave him a lazy stare.

"No," Robin said, folding his arms across his chest. "I just like hanging around dark, secret caves in my spare time because living in Crime Alley got _boring_."

Garth simply scoffed, his dark eyes rolling. "There is no need for attitude!" he tutted. "I'm simply curious. You have been with us for nearly a year— in training for longer, I assume. Tula, Kaldur, and I have been training most of our lives, but I believe your training is quite… different."

"I wouldn't know," Jason sighed, as if he were disappointed. "Damn my gillless neck. I would have been a stellar merman— er, Atlantean. Fishboy."

"Right," Garth said, ignoring Jason's comments. "You see, I would trust Tula with the role as leader, if the situation called for waterbased attacks— but there is no water, nor attacks. Tula is magnificent, but I do think we need more of a Bat perspective to save our friends. Don't you?"

"Robin, you've been at this a lot longer than me," Batgirl urged, turning to face him. Her eyes were bright, and her smile encouraging. "It would make sense for you to take this one."

"I'm flattered," Jason said. "Really, I am— and yeah, usually I'd jump at this sort of gig, but…"

"You fear for your brother's safety," Tula said gently, her webbed fingers catching Jason's shoulder. He stiffened, not sure how to respond to this. "That's natural, Robin. But we are in desperate need of a leader, and… I'm in an agreement that Superboy and Kid Flash's emotions might cloud their judgments in a case like this. Batgirl has too little experience to take it up, and I'm... not entirely sure why I've been assigned this mission. I won't help much."

The cave chimed softly, and recognized Kid Flash's presence as he sped into the room, wind following fast behind in a flow of air. Wally was hunched over, his fingers running through his red hair, and he looked up, his green eyes flashing wildly beneath his yellow cowl.

"Is Artemis okay?" he gasped, straightening up. "I mean… that mission wasn't supposed to go like this…"

"Missions take unexpected turns," Barbara said quietly. "It's something that needs to be accepted."

"Wise words from the rookie," Jason teased, earning a sharp look from Bagirl. He merely smiled at her, and shrugged. "I'm _kidding_. Jeez."

"But what happened? Why didn't they get themselves out? They told me they would be able to get themselves out, and—" Wally's words became gibberish after that, too garbled and swift to understand. Jason decided to tune him out.

"Why did they tell him stuff and not us?" Jason whispered to Barbara. She responded with a shrug, and a grimace.

"Can we go now?" Superboy growled, pushing past Garth and Tula and staring down at Jason with cold eyes. "You're the leader now. _Lead_."

Jason didn't know if he wanted to be the leader, though. It hadn't been a thought he'd ever entertained while on this team, and now that he was being forced into the role, he was scared. Would he end up disappointing them, and failing the mission? It might skew their perspective of him, and wasn't sure if he could put up with that. Sure, he thought he was a huge badass most of the time, but he never had anyone else's lives on the line when he fought. Except maybe his own, but he usually didn't count that.

"Wait, Rob's the leader?" Kid Flash didn't sound very surprised, though that might've been because he was practically vibrating, he was so nervous. "Did I miss that much? Crapcrapcrap— you know what, who cares! Rob, do you think you can get Artemis and Nightwing out of there?"

_Maybe_. "Yes," he answered immediately, grinning up at Kid Flash. He seemed to relax visibly, trusting Jason for some unfathomable reason, and he grinned back.

"Then, dude," Wally said, locking his arm around Jason's shoulder. "Lead the way!"

* * *

_I have a reason for updating so quickly. I actually started this chapter around the time I started the last one, so it was pretty simple to finish. The next one will probably take a lot longer._

_Okay, let me explain. Lately I've been watching Dollhouse with my sisters, and throughout the entire first season I would be going into watching the show right from writing this story. Eventually I just realized, "WHOA THIS WOULD BE AN AWESOME MISSION IDEA" and then I just kind of got a ton of inspiration. It fits the story better if they're just amnesiac. Things will be explained for the most part. (the reason why m'gann isn't with dick, kaldur, and artemis is pretty obvious, but if you can't figure it out, you'll see next chapter)_

_(this takes place three months after the last chapter, which is why there's no mention of rose's eye. they simply had no leads so they had to drop it in favor of more important things)_

_My reasons for making Jason leader are... well, dumb. I just looked at the people on the mission and decided that Barbara would be the best choice for leader, but she's so new, they'd have to go with Jason instead. Wally and Conner would be too emotional from the fact that M'gann and Artemis are in danger._

_Noxala, I believe, means Nightwing in Latin (don't have my latin book with me, so don't know for sure), and sagitta means arrow. I had names for Kal and M'gann too, meaning depth and seize respectively, but I lost the paper. (I think M'gann's was Rapio. I see.)_

_Okay, well enjoy the confusion, and review, please! =D_


	15. Oh Bitter Dreams

**fall and fail**

**{oh bitter dreams}**

The mission was rather simple. In theory. They would take the same route Alpha had, and park the Supercycle next to where the bio-ship was currently in camouflage mode. The fact that Superboy had to be left behind was sort of disheartening, and since there was no room for Wolf, Conner's mood was nothing short of foul. He looked ready to crush something.

Robin liked his teammates well enough. He wasn't exactly super attached to any of them, not like he was attached to Dick and Barbara, but they were cool. Like, Superboy seemed like the most amusing, because pissing him off might cause an earthquake, and that appealed to Robin. Aquagirl was sort of quiet, and nervous, her eyes cast over the ocean in a dreamy sort of state. She was nice, but in a calm, tender sort of way. Her jokes were muted, and she acted sort of demure in comparison to the other girls Robin was used to working with— though she was pretty fierce when it came down to it. Kid Flash was like the energizer bunny on LCD or something, because he would not shut up about the most random shit, and it got old like, two hours ago. Robin knew he was scared for his friends, but couldn't he cope in a different way? Like, the normal way? By moping? What an asshole.

Then there was Batgirl, who was awesome, and totally got everything. She was the one who shut Wally up by shoving food in his lap, and she was the one mapping out their route through the air vents, and she was the one doing all the work. Robin felt like he was sort of useless, since she was already trying to tackle the security system while simultaneously conversing with Jason about a book they'd both ended up reading at some point.

He tried not to be bothered by the whole leader thing. Like, he could be a great leader, but… he wasn't sure if he was ready to be one yet. Not on such an important mission. This wasn't recon (which he sucked at, because _covert_ meant following the rules, and Jason rarely did that), and it wasn't a fight, and he had lives on the line. Multiple lives of people he really cared about, and… if he messed up, it was all over.

He wouldn't admit it to any of them. He wanted them to think that he had control of this situation, because if they realized how shitty he felt about it all… he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to panic about it, and he didn't but the fact remained that Robin was scared. Being proud only went as far as his known limitations. He had no idea if he could do this or not. He guessed it would be a test of sorts.

_I can't pretend like I know what I'm doing. I can't do what I usually do either, or else I'll just get everyone hurt. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me_… He bit his lip, leaning forward as the wind whipped around him, drowning Kid Flash's voice as he began to rattle off random scientific shit, like quantum physics, or something really mind blowing and unrealistically real like that. Jason preferred talking about literature with Babs, because at least it made sense.

_Oh my god_, he thought, his shoulders going lax. _I'm being such a piece of shit about this. I can do it. I'm going to. Nobody is going to stop me from getting this team, and the Alpha team, back home in one piece. Nobody._

And so Jason Todd was not afraid anymore. A mental shove was all he needed, and now he knew that he would succeed. Because he had to. He wouldn't allow himself to be anything short of absolutely fucking perfect. Because otherwise, what the hell did he think he was doing as Robin? If he couldn't run a team, he might as well quit. So he was going to do it, and he was going to make it count.

"You guys are the worst road trip buddies ever," Jason sighed, leaning back into his seat. No one replied, which only further proved his point. He could hear the crunching of granola as Kid Flash consumed half a box of Special K Bars. He was going to need something more substantial than that shit. Wally would burn 100 calories faster than Jason could blink.

"This isn't a road trip," Conner said sharply. "It's a rescue mission."

"And that," Jason said, "was a _joke_, Supey. I know you understand the concept. You're a walking encyclopedia."

That remark only gained him a very dark scowl, and Robin could only laugh and tilt his head back, grinning broadly in response. Seriously, Superboy could be his favorite member of the Team, if only because he took the bait every time.

"We're all just a little shaken up, Robin," Barbara said, her face glowing from the reflection of her holoscreen. Her fingers were sliding swiftly all across the illuminated keys, and she never looked up. How she managed to multitask so flawlessly, Jason would never know.

"I'm pretty sure 'shaken up' is a term that doesn't even skim the surface." Robin folded his arms across his chest, closing his eyes as the wind caught his hair, whipping it to and fro. "You guys are acting like they're already dead. Have a little faith, 'kay? We're gonna get the losers back, and then we can watch with great pleasure as they get chewed the hell out by Batman. Ah, I can already feel the teen angst! Or maybe it's just you four."

"Hey!" Kid Flash cried, kicking Jason's chair gently. "Just because you get some sick joy from seeing Nightwing get into trouble, doesn't mean we all do. I, personally, am scared to death for the lecture they're going to get!"

"I doubt we will be allowed to witness it," Tula murmured, speaking for the first time in a few hours. Barbara nodded in agreement, her eyes still on her little compact-computer thingy. What was that thing called again? Jason couldn't remember. Someone should just get her a wrist computer.

"Bummer," Robin stated. He didn't put much enthusiasm in the word, though. "So, does Sphere have any tunes built into her? 'Cause I've been having music deprival since like, _way_ back."

"We're not listening to music," Barbara said. She seemed to falter, and her eyes danced upward, meeting his. They were crinkling in amusement, and she seemed to be holding back laughter. "Not _your_ music, at least."

"My taste in music is awesome, don't even try and rag on it."

"You can't even understand the words, Robin. It's just senseless noise."

"So?" Robin rolled his eyes. "We keep Kid Flash around, don't we? Same thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kid Flash gaped, sputtering in faux offense.

"Besides, no one wants to listen to your indie shit."

"I'm not suggesting we do." Barbara was back to fiddling with her computer, and Robin frowned, drumming his fingers against his thigh. How long until they reached China?

"What music do you guys listen to?" Robin asked, twisting in his seat to peer up at the other members of his team. "BG is all into weird stuff, like 'woman and the inanimate object'. Marina?" Robin shot Barbara a questioning look, not really sure about the names of the bands she liked. Barbara nodded vacantly in response. "Yeah, her songs are messed up. Super self-deprecating and stuff. Says a lot about you, you know that?"

"Wish I could say the same about your music," Batgirl sighed, smirking at her holoscreen. "But I honestly can't get anything out of the constant whirring and bass dropping."

"Yeah. For all you know, the lyrics could be super deep and existentially equivocal," he quipped.

"What?" Kid Flash blurted from behind them. "How do you go from normal kid to pretentious bastard in like, two seconds?"

"I'm not pretentious." Robin smiled brightly, clapping his hands together as he craned his neck to look back. "I just got an A on my last vocab test. Might as well show off that I know shit."

"You can put music on," Batgirl sighed, her lips pulled into a smirk, "so long as you shut up, 'kay?"

"Alright!" Jason hooted, throwing his arms into the air. The others either smiled, or rolled their eyes. _Why is it so easy to convince them that I'm happy?_

* * *

He was on a glowing platform, heat radiating from beneath him in waves of yellow light. He was surrounded by a circle of bombs, their purpose nothing but a murmur of reassurance. He sat, dizzy and waiting, waiting, waiting, and he wondered what his name was. He wouldn't need to know soon. Soon he'd cease to exist altogether. Wasn't that what he wanted?

_No, no, no_, cried a voice from below. A churning core screamed and spat fire. _Wake up! This isn't who you are!_

"Hello," he said to a ghost. He looked like him, blue eyed and lithe, with a smile too big and a heart that matched.

"Hey, there, squirt," the boy said, blinking dead blue eyes. "What'cha doing here?"

"Hiding," he replied.

The boy looked confused, his brow furrowing. "Huh? From what?"

"From you." He pulled his knees to his chest, and he turned his face away. "Go away. You'll die if you stay here."

"I'm already dead," sighed the boy, tsking a little as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, you know that. You were there!"

"Shut up," he mumbled, shrugging the ghostly hand off him. "Leave me alone."

"Hey…" The boy looked up with a hurt expression. "Di—"

"No!" He screamed, clapping his hands over his eyes. "Leave me alone!"

The boy was gone in a scream and a _snap_. And alone he was, trapped in a memory of a failure that haunted and clawed and scraped at his mind. It was a brand above his heart, and scar that was too stubborn to heal. The white-hot platform thrummed beneath him, lurching into life, and rocking from side to side. It was a swinging pendulum, a clock inside his eyes ticking off the seconds until everything crashed and crushed him. He breathed, but in went blood and dust, and out went screams and fire.

_Who am I?_ His thoughts were muddled and fearful. _Oh, god, who am I?_

The world was a song. An eerie tune, a lull and whine of accordions and mummers, the swing of a trapeze, the snapping of a chord, snap, snap, snap, and the sound of a thousand thousand breaths catching. The sound of hearts stopping. The sound of screams and crunching bones. The world was a song, and he was its singer, a skinny boy with a lost voice and a lost heart and a lost mind.

"_Mili musikanti zahrajte mi čerdaš,"_ sang his own voice, low and soft and sad. Tears rained from heaven, a big gaping hole in the sky, black as his heart and blacker still. The sweet sound of laughter and sighs and screams and sobs flung around him, swarming him like flies and kissing his rotting flesh. He blinked rapidly, the sky and the stars bursting, black and blue and bleeding. The tears became blood. And his head was swollen, his heels cracking and shredding against the searing hot plate beneath him. The pendulum swung. Tick tock, in a bloody rhythm, as life turned to death, and the song thrummed as lively as a corpse.

He found himself sobbing.

"Please," he begged, the bleeding sky. "Please, just tell me who I am!"

"I know."

The voice was beautiful. Like a song in itself, a wrapping of gold and silver and silk, lulling and soft, a comfort to a boy without a name or a mind. He spun, the platform beneath him tearing his balance out from under him, and he shrieked as he fell. He was caught by a pair of pale arms, skinny and soft, and he breathed in the scent of vanilla curls. He found himself sinking into them, feeling safe for the first time in what he could only assume was forever. He clutched her freckled arms, his face buried in her shoulder, and he breathed in the scent of her hair. It tickled his nose, his cheeks, and he breathed her in, holding her so tight that he wasn't sure he'd ever let her go.

He could have held her forever. He might have. He didn't know. He looked up at her face, and found it hazy. Her eyes were sharp, bold, beautiful and clever and wise. She looked at him, and she saw him, and he loved that and hated it. He could see her lips, red as red could come, and her hair was even redder. A blur of bloody curls framed a porcelain face, and he couldn't stop staring, because it was a jostle there, a memory fresh and alive, and he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life just to remember her face, remember her name, remember her and how it felt to be around her.

"I know who you are," she whispered, her voice sweet and melodious. She was singing in his ear, her rosy lips pressed against the sensitive skin. He found that he was dazed just to be so close to her. "Let me show you."

"Please," he breathed. He felt her fingers in his hair, against his cheek, tracing his jaw. He closed his eyes, and her lips trailed down from his ear, kissing his jaw with slow, but anxious movements. Her mouth was very soft, and it met his skin delicately as it made its way down his neck, breathing him in as he'd breathed her in, taking in his head and heart and leaving her kiss of memory and life. Every kiss she left was a fire on his skin, a beautiful feeling of life and light, and he felt his fingers tighten around her pale arms, pulling her closer and closer until there was no more space between them, only her body pressed against his, and her lips gliding against his neck, and the strangest feeling stirring in his chest like nothing he'd ever felt before.

She pulled back, but only leaving a miniscule space between their lips. She watched him with her clever eyes, her blurry features contorting in amusement. He dragged his thumb across her cheek, wishing he could see her face, praying he could wipe away the haze and clouds. She was nebulous, and she was beautiful, and he breathed in the air she exhaled. It tasted like her, like life and clouds and vanilla and wishes left unfulfilled. She tasted like broken promises and lost dreams and hopes and mysteries, and he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to say her name, and he could taste that too. He could taste her name, pretty and milky, rolling on his tongue and caught in his throat. She watched him, her lips so red and clever quirking up as they moved closer to his.

"Please," he breathed, his body swaying. Her lips might have brushed his for a quarter of a second before she twirled away, her laughter bursting into the air like a billion stars clapping and collapsing, grazing his skin and burning him and kissing him. He felt her slip away from him, and he stared, wide eyed and hurt. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay like he wanted to breathe. He reached for her, his mouth moving to call her name, but his mind was numb to it, and that name was stuck in his throat, left to choke him and strangle him. He reached out farther, gasping as he stumbled. "Please!"

She laughed, and she laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. She looked back at him, her curls dancing around her head in silky, bloody waves, and she spun and spun, laughing away his fears. "Fooled you!" she laughed, her sinewy body moving fluidly, like water through the air.

She burst into flames then, and he screamed, reaching and reaching, but her laughter died with the fire consuming her, and he watched her disappear in a gulping, fiery mass. His heart ached, and he felt tears on his cheeks, rolling in silence. He slumped, falling to his knees onto the burning pendulum, and he choked on his sobs, her name falling, swallowed in a gulp and a gasp and a sob. _Who am I_, he thought. _Who was she? _

He stood up on wobbly legs, breathing in fumes of smoke, and he exhaled fear and hopelessness. He just wanted to know. He wanted himself, and he wanted solace. He was so scared, he couldn't bear it. He wandered the pendulum, his body swaying from the force, tick tock, tick tock. He breathed, and he screamed, but no one answered. He was stuck. He was lost, and his heart ached.

He saw a boy. He ran to him, and grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing him so tight it hurt _him_. "Help me!" he gasped, dropping to his knees before the boy. He had eyes like blocks of ice. They were cold, but there was a fire alight within them, glowing strong and defiant. He was wearing a cape, but it was all tattered and worn, as if he'd been wearing it for ten thousand years, and would be wearing it for ten thousand more. "Please, tell me who I am!"

The boy laughed in his face. The laugh was harsh, brash, bold, and it hit him like a brick. He gasped, blinking rapidly as the boy pushed him, and he fell to the white-hot pendulum, his body rolling. The boy stood over him, head raised high. "Sorry," he laughed, dropping to one knee beside him. "But you were just so pathetic, I couldn't help it!"

"Please," he mumbled, burying his face.

"Oh come on!" whine the boy, nudging him with his foot. The foot was bare, and his feet were blackened and blistered. "You dumb piece of shit, get up!"

"Do I…?" He looked up at the boy, and he sat up. "I know you. Who are you?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "You don't know?" His nose scrunched up, and it was the sweetest thing. "Ugh. I should have known. You asshole, of course you'd forget me."

"Please," he begged. "Just tell me your name." _Then I'll see your face_.

"No!" snapped the boy. "No, why should I? You don't care about me! If you did you'd have the fucking grace to remember me!"

"No," he gasped, "no, no, that's not it at all. Please, I'm— I'm begging you, just— just tell me your name, please—!"

"I hate you!" the boy spat, eyes ablaze. "I hate you, and I hope you burn in hell!"

He disappeared, and he strangled a sob as his body disintegrated into bones and dust and a shrieking scream. He choked on the dust and screams and gasped on death and hopelessness. He wanted to lay down and die. He was so caught in despair, he felt loneliness choke him, hold him tight and kiss him like the beautiful, clever girl had done, but when it kissed him it bit through his skin and poisoned him with fear and lies and heartache. Despair had him, and his heart had gone dark.

He rolled as the pendulum swung. He felt the heat, radiating and pulsating, and he coughed, feeling dizzy and uncertain. Life was slipping, and darkness crept like a slithering shroud. It draped over the world, and the stars were all gone, choked out like his heart. He pushed himself up, and the world spun and spun and spun.

He blinked. There was a dark blot in his line of vision. "Hey," he mumbled, lurching forward. "Hey, who are you?"

The man had donned himself in all black, cloaked and covered and shrouded. He turned, and he was a shadow. A living shadow, staring with whites of his eyes slitted and glowering. He found himself stopping, his blood chilling in his veins. He was a frightening sight, a jolting presence that stunned him and moved him. He found he was drawn to the shadow of a man, and he stepped carefully, the pendulum swinging and swinging and swinging. The man did not budge.

"You," he breathed. "Oh… I know you. I know I know you, I have to know you." He felt tears in his eyes. "Do… do you know me?"

The man stared. And he nodded.

"Please!" He grasped the shadow's silky cape, and clutched it tightly in his fists. "Please, tell me! I… I don't know who I am, I don't… oh god, I know you, I know you!"

"Yes." The man's voice was gravel and silk and lies and haven. It was the sound of pure comfort, and it was enough. It was enough. The man draped the shadowy cape over his shoulders, and it felt warm and safe, spreading a sweet feeling through him. Warmth and wonder consumed him, and he slumped against the man's chest, sobbing and gasping. He'd never felt safer.

He awoke alone. The walls were starkly white, and everything was shiny and bold, overwhelming and sharp. He'd never felt lonelier. He blinked away the crust from his eyes, and he sat up, his blanket falling from his chest. His fingers were throbbing in a dull pain, but he ignored it. His dream was sticking to him like feathers against tar. He groaned, his head falling into his hands, and he took deep breaths. None of it had been real. A part of him was desperately sad. He wanted them all back. He wanted the safe shadow, and the angry child, and the clever girl, and the dead boy. He wanted them all so much it ached.

"Hey."

Nightwing's head snapped to the side. There was a girl in the bed across from his, all the way on the other side of the room. She was pretty, and her face was sharp and clear to him. Smooth and richly hued, with dark, intelligent eyes clouded with confusion and fear. Her soft looking yellow hair fell to her shoulders in limp, jagged strands, and when she moved it shifted. She was sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, wearing a powdery blue, stiff looking tee shirt, and striped flannel pants. Her back was pressed against the wall her bed was against, and her hands were folded, as if she'd been praying.

"Hey," Nightwing said, his voice raw. His throat was dry. He stared at her, and he didn't know if he felt lonely anymore. She didn't seem to be all there. Perhaps she wasn't.

"So," said the girl, _Sagitta_, they'd called her. Arrow. She took a deep breath, and looked away. "You were talking. In your sleep. It was really noisy."

"Wha…" Nightwing felt startled, and he flushed. "Oh. Sorry."

She shrugged. "Whatever," she said, blowing a particularly short piece of blonde hair from her eye. "I wasn't getting much sleep anyway. I kept seeing…" She trailed off, and her eyes grew distant. Cloudy and sad. She looked away, and rested her chin on her knees. "Never mind."

"You saw people too," Nightwing said. She looked at him, and he saw her eyes go wide. "Important people. You knew them, but you couldn't… see them. Their faces."

"Yeah," she said. Her nostrils flared for a moment, and she jumped to her feet. "What did they _do _to us?"

Nightwing stared at her, his brow raising. "They?" he repeated, blinking. "The doctors?"

"Yes!" She glared at the door, and she flung her arms into the air. "Or whoever! I don't know! All I know is that I don't know who I am, and I hate them for doing this to me! Don't you?"

"Well…" Nightwing bit his lip. "Yeah, of course, but…"

"But nothing!" She stomped her foot, and Nightwing found himself smiling. She was nice. He liked her. And he didn't feel so lonely with her shouting. It reminded him of… who? "I just want my name. I want _his_ name. I want all their names! I want your name, and I want Kaldur'ahm back. I want to be out of this place. I want to go home."

"What's home?" Nightwing asked her, wide eyed. "I can't remember. Not anything before this place."

"I…" Arrow looked startled. She looked down at her bare feet, and wiggled her toes. "I don't know. But it's got to be better than here."

Nightwing found that he could only nod in agreement.

* * *

They landed outside a containment facility. It was huge, a mighty looking fortress of steel and stone that rose into the air in blocky, sharp angles. It was stunning and frightening, like a bad dream and a horrible truth. Jason looked up at the enormous building, his heart hammering in his chest. This place of gray stone and gleaming steel, it made his hair stand on end. Bumps raised on his arms, gooseflesh hissing at him to run and run and run. But Jason Todd was no coward. He could not balk away from something that practically bellowed his name. _Come_, the building screamed to him, _come and do your worst, you worthless mouse!_

Jason found himself smirking. No one noticed, or no one cared. It made no matter. It was nothing new to him.

"I don't like that I have to stay behind," Superboy grumbled. They were all preparing to deploy, all except Conner. Jason might have felt bad if he wasn't so nervous. He couldn't let them know that though.

"Sorry, Supes," Wally said, clapping the clone on the shoulder. In stealth, only the paleness of his face gave him away in the darkness. "Look at it this way, you could be our saving grace for all we know."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Superboy gave him a scowl, and Jason gave a soft laugh. Barbara shot him a look, and he stifled it. "Look, I just want to make sure M'gann is okay. That's it."

"Nice to know you care about Nightwing, Artemis, and Aqualad," Jason said dryly. Superboy's cool blue eyes snapped to Jason's masked ones. They were so frigid and steely, Jason didn't know if he felt threatened or excited.

"That's not what I meant," Superboy hissed, his eyes narrowing. His blocky shoulders squared defensively. "I just—"

"I get it," Jason said. He stood up straighter, and prayed he appeared more confident than he felt. _Fake it_, Jason told himself. _Fake it all, and maybe it will become real_. He watched Superboy's eyes snap wide in shock. "You're scared for Miss M. We're all scared, okay, but right now you need to… stay here. And yeah, it sucks, but there's no other way to get to them."

Kid Flash studied Jason's face for a moment, before he began to nod. Jason felt almost taken aback. "Rob's got a point," Kid said, cupping his chin as if in thought. "Strangely. I mean, I'm lucky if _I_ fit in an air vent. I'm not as thin as I used to be, y'know." He grinned broadly at Superboy, but all he got in response was a blank stare. "You've been packing bricks too, Supey, like you're not made for the delicate nature of air vents."

"Cadmus," Superboy reminded, his tone dull.

Kid Flash's nose scrunched up in distaste. "Luck!"

"Will you three shut up?" Batgirl hissed at them. "You're going to get us caught before we even start."

"Yes," agreed Tula, her pale eyes flashing in the deep cover of night. She was wearing stealth clothes as well, though her skin seemed to have a glimmery shine to it in the dark. Fish people. "This is not the time for arguments. We must act _now,_ else we may lose our friends forever."

"God, thank you," Batgirl breathed. "Thank you for being the only one here with a brain."

"Well women are the superior gender," Jason found himself musing aloud. He saw Tula quirk an eyebrow, while Barbara merely rolled her eyes.

"Kiss up," KF said snidely.

"Shut up," Robin retorted, stepping back. "I'm still in charge. So here's how it's gonna go."

"Oh, this should be good," Superboy muttered. Jason smiled at him sweetly.

"It's not gonna be good, Superboy," Jason said, his eyes twinkling. "It's gonna be one _hell_ of a fucking show, though."

"Oh god," Kid Flash groaned, closing his eyes.

"So we all know how we're getting in," Jason whispered, reminding himself to keep quiet. "Here's how it's gonna go after that. Aquagirl, your priority is Aqualad. I don't care who you see. Get Aqualad, and get out. If you see any of us, and we got caught, but you have Aqualad, get out. This applies to everyone. KF, get Artemis. If she, or anyone else fights you guys on it, knock them out." He saw how their faces transformed from awe to horror.

"Are you serious?" KF's green eyes widened. "I don't think I could knock Artemis out if I tried!"

"Then drug her." Robin shrugged.

"Uh," Kid Flash said, his eyes narrowing. "No, I'm not drugging my girlfriend."

Jason wrinkled his nose. "Okay, when you say it like _that_—"

"Guys," Batgirl said. "Focus."

"Oh. Right." Robin frowned at KF. "Do what you have to, just get her out. BG, you've got Nightwing. And I know you can take him, if it comes down to a fight. But it won't."

Batgirl smiled then, and Jason felt warm and content as the realization that she _approved_ settled in. "You sound so sure," she said.

"I _am_ sure," Jason lied. He turned to Superboy. "I'm going to get M'gann," he said. The look on the clone's face was priceless. "And that's my priority. I promise. Which, you know, I guess doesn't mean that much. Words are nothing. But I do promise, and I'm gonna try, and like hell I'm gonna fail while I'm still breathing."

"That's a loaded promise," Superboy said.

Jason smiled, and he shrugged. "I'm a loaded gun," he said. "And I don't intend to fail."

Superboy watched him for a few moments, his blue eyes hard. And then he smiled back. "We'll see," he said.

* * *

"Pretty," Arrow said. Her smooth, pretty face was leaning over his shoulder, her newly shortened blonde hair framing her face. Her head blotted out the glaringly white lights in the glaringly white chamber, and he was grateful for that. He looked down, following her gaze to his drawing. They'd been given colored pencils, and he'd decided to utilize them. Arrow had gotten bored quickly. "Who are they?"

"I don't know," Nightwing said. He looked down at the drawing. They were the dream. The safe shadow was a blot on the page, and the angry boy was happy, and the clever girl was lovely and nothing he could draw did her justice, and the dead boy was scratched over so many times he was nothing more than a big ball of scraping lines. Nightwing did not like to look at him, because it made him ache with sorrow and fear and an old, crippling pain.

"Well," Arrow said, her eyes rolling. "Obviously you know them. Like I know _him._" She pointed to her own drawing. It sparked something inside Nightwing, the stick figure doodle of a yellow boy with big green eyes and a shock of red hair. "Like I know you."

"I'm Nightwing," he said to her. "You know that."

"No," she said, her voice hard. "I know you. And you know me."

_It's true_, he found himself thinking as he searched her pretty face. _I know her. I know her so well, and yet I don't know her at all. Why is that? _He decided he hated this place more than he hated anything that had ever existed, if only for tearing away the things he knew he loved, and loved so much he could still feel the bitter aching as he stared down at his dreams. He picked up the paper, and he tore it in half.

Arrow didn't even flinch. She watched, and she looked bored. "That's a waste," she said.

"You're a waste," Nightwing snapped. He felt indescribable sadness hit him in waves, like he was mourning a loss that had died a thousand years ago, and yet he still could not shake the feel of solitude. Loneliness and grief were frequent visitors in his big, sad heart.

"Keep it together," the girl hissed, grabbing his arm. "I'm angry too, but we have to stick together. They're going to separate us. You know they are."

Nightwing didn't want to leave her. _Not ever_. He'd had enough loss in his life, and he couldn't bear losing her too. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes widening. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it."

She glared at him, and she shook her head. "Whatever. Let's just get through today together. I don't trust anyone else."

"If I wasn't here," he said, "what would you do?"

"Fight," she said quickly, as if it was an instinct. She blinked, and her dark gray eyes flashed away. "I… I mean, I don't know. Maybe I'd just… wait for them to ship me away. Like they did Kaldur'ahm."

"He's not gone," he murmured. "Just away."

"He's gone," Arrow said, her voice bitter and low. "People like him, when they leave, they leave and don't come back."

"How could you know that?" Nightwing whispered. "You can't know that. I want to believe we'll see him again. Why can't I believe that?"

"Because it's stupid!" Arrow grabbed a piece of paper and a green colored pencil, and she began to draw furiously across the white space. "It's a stupid, _childish_ wish! Do you even hear how _stupid_ you sound? Of course he's not coming back!" Her hand looked as if it was cramping, and Nightwing watched her knuckles go white from clutching the pencil so hard. And still she drew, ranting away. "People leave. That's what I know. People leave, because they don't love you, and they don't care, and he was just the same. He left. He's not coming back. No one _ever _comes back." The colored pencil snapped in her fist, and she pushed away from the table, jumping to her feet and marching to a chair in a corner.

Nightwing stared at her as she pulled her feet up, her knees bopping against each other as she sunk into the chair and glared at him. He looked down at her drawing, and pulled it closer to him by its corner. The green glistened against the paper, dark and jagged strokes of pigment.

It was a great big cat, grinning madly at him in a hue of envy and uncertainty.

Nightwing wished he could understand. He wanted to hug her, tell her that he wasn't going to leave her, but he couldn't. Because he didn't know if it was true. And he was scared to death of that fact. He looked at the doctor at the doorway, and saw him looking at Arrow. The way he watched the girl made Nightwing anxious, and he didn't like it at all. _We have to get out of here_, he thought frantically.

Then the man looked at him, and he felt his insides turn to ice. And he knew time was up.

* * *

Getting through the air vents had been almost simple. That was what worried her. In the end, she was worried that they were falling into a trap. Her mind was rushing at a thousand miles an hour, trying desperately to unearth the mysteries of the facility they were infiltrating. But she couldn't. Why? The variables were innumerous, and she was stuck. Her thoughts were myriads of flashing numbers and colors and words, stars and codes she could not dissect. She was scared, and she was human, and her mind was rushing and rushing and overflowing like a cascade.

She was trying to track the missing teammates, but they were no longer wearing their suits. For all she knew, they weren't even in the building. They were walking blindly into a snake pit. She didn't want to say so, but they all knew it to be true. When Robin ducked through the first shaft, disappearing into the darkness, Batgirl watched him, and her blood froze in her veins as a horrible thought occurred to her. _What if I never see him again?_

It was only natural that she worry for him most of all. Jason was young, and he was impulsive, rash, as uncontrollable as a raging flame. She loved him dearly, but she couldn't help but doubt him. She knew she had no right, and she was infinitely saddened by the fact, but she couldn't help it. The truth was, they had no idea what they were doing. She didn't like being unprepared.

Kid Flash disappeared next, sliding down a dark, shadowy shaft that led into the west wing of the building. "We have a lot of ground to cover," Kid said, his dark gloved gripping the steel sides of the ventilation shaft. He looked up at her, his green eyes glowing in the darkness. "I'm your man to scout it out." Then he jumped into the pit.

Batgirl was next to deploy, into an air vent that led to what she could only assume was where the men in charge were. She prayed she could go undetected, but she wasn't Batman, and she wasn't Nightwing. She wasn't even Robin. It was true why she hadn't taken leadership of the mission when she could have, when she knew well how much she doubted Jason. She doubted herself more. No lie could mask that fact.

"Be careful," she whispered to Aquagirl. She liked Tula, with her soft voice and fierce attitude. Her fellow red head smiled, taking Batgirl's gloved hand in her webbed fingers, and squeezed.

"You too, my friend," she said. "I pray we find our friends."

"Don't pray," Batgirl said. "Act."

And she flung herself down a shaft, air whistling through her cape and hair and ears, her fingertips dragging across the metal surface to prevent her body from bumping and crashing. She maneuvered herself as best she could. And she did it. She was breathless by the time she dropped through the metal grate, heart pounding and mind askew with thoughts of variables and uncertainties.

She'd expected the facility to be dark. She'd been wrong. It was stark white, and she knew now how the Alpha Team had gotten caught. "Robin," she whispered, pressing her finger to her communicator.

"_I know_." And that was the only response she got. Batgirl's heart sunk as their chances of fulfilling the mission dwindled.

Barbara bit her lip, and she decided her only way to remain stealthy was up. So she made careful arrangements to hoist herself up, adding a special adhesive to her gloves and boots in order to stick to the walls and ceiling. She crawled carefully, cocooning herself in her cape as she moved swiftly across the ceiling, feeling more like a spider than anything. She was careful to crouched just out of sight when people walked below her, and she noted their attire. Lab coats. They would be scientists, wouldn't they?

She decided to follow one scientist. He was small, a lanky man who looked half a boy, if she had to be truthful. Her neck hurt from craning it, and crawling across the ceiling felt precarious and stupid. But otherwise she knew she'd get caught. This was the part of the building swarming with scientists. She was in more danger than the others. Or she hoped she was.

She dropped down just as he entered a room, and she slid a batarang into the crack before the door snapped shut and locked. She quickly slipped inside, and listened to the door lock behind her. The room was dark, ominous and dim. Perfect. She sunk in the shadows easily, and she followed the man's shadow. He seemed to be completely oblivious.

Batgirl's body was pressed up against a wall as the room got steadily lighter. She stuck to the shadows with great care, and she stared as the man came to a stop before a computer. There was a woman sitting there already, watching the screen lazily.

"Another departure?" she asked in a bored voice, taking an envelope from the man. "So soon after the last?"

"Boss wants them gone," the man said, shrugging. "This one's being shipped, not picked up."

"Goodie," the woman said, slapping the file down. Batgirl watched her type away at her computer, and she felt almost envious. Her fingers twitched. That computer was all she needed. She could find everyone. But first, the scientists. She edged closer, and the shadows were growing smaller as she went. "Okay, your boy is on the next plane out. You guys didn't even identify him."

The man shrugged. "Not my job," he said offhandedly. "Or my fault. He's only been here a day."

"Should be enough time," the woman grumbled, her fingers clacking against the keys. "Oh. Ha. Look at that."

"What?"

"He skinned his fingertips." Batgirl watched the woman smirk as she leaned back. "He's smart."

"You're not supposed to compliment them." The man looked uncomfortable, and Batgirl was growing more and more anxious. "They're barely people anymore."

"They are people," said the woman. "And pretending that they're not makes you less of a person than them. Grow up."

Batgirl sprung, the side of her hand connecting hard with the back of the man's neck. He crumpled, falling unceremoniously to the ground. The woman's eyes flashed wide, and she reached for her keyboard, but Batgirl flung a batarang at her that split open when it sunk into her chair, spewing a net across her body. Batgirl's gloved hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. She wasn't particularly old, but she didn't look as young as the man on the floor. She had big brown eyes and mousy brown hair cropped short to her ears, and her complexion was a deeper shade than her own, but only barely.

"Hi," Batgirl said, cocking her head. "So, I need info. Your computer has it. And I trust it way more than I trust you, so I've gotta knock you out now."

The woman's eyes grew wider, and her voice was muffled against Batgirl's hand as a fist connected with a pressure point in her shoulder. She slumped, her eyes rolling up, and Batgirl almost felt bad about it. But she had no time or energy to do so. She pushed the chair aside, listening to it roll away, and she bent over the computer greedily.

"Okay," she said, her eyes glowing in the light of the computer screen. "Show me what you've got."

It proved way easier than she'd expected. Because the scientists had, in fact, been talking about Nightwing. And now she knew. She scanned his page, feeling something cold sink into her stomach. Dick was here all right. But not for long. _He skinned his fingers_, she observed, trying not to feel sickened. It made sense. If they were trying to identify him, it made sense.

She had the urge to look up Artemis, M'gann, and Kaldur, but she didn't. She got Dick's room, and she spun away from the computer, leaving the room without another thought. Dick Grayson was her priority. And she had to accept it, whether or not she wanted to help her other teammates.

Batgirl scaled the walls again, moving faster than before. Now that she knew where Nightwing was, she had a purpose. Her objective was clear, and she had restored faith in the mission. She could get him out. She would get him out. All that mattered now was getting him out. Her heart and head did not matter, all that did was her objective. She could be guilty later.

He was in a containment unit on the farther end of the facility. No one checked in with Robin, and the silence could mean nothing and everything. She didn't want to be scared of nothing, but the truth was that nothing was scarier. Her thoughts were numb, but there was an underlying nagging that bit at her, hissing lies into her ears. She wanted to scream, she was so frazzled by its influence.

She dropped down before his door, not even bothering to try the knob before she began to pick the lock. She knew better. She'd wasted enough time already, and she wanted to see him. She was so… so _desperate_ to see his face, to make sure he was okay… she could barely stand herself. She hadn't been incredibly worried before. She'd had faith in Dick Grayson, because it was all she could do to keep herself from going insane with concern. But now that she'd heard the scientists talk about him, she was scared that they might have broken him beyond repair.

_It's not fair_, she thought furiously, the lockpick wiggling, steadily shifting the mechanisms. _Why does everything have to happen to him?_

It was a silly thought, but she couldn't help it. She'd known him for so long, and she knew there was two great constants in Dick Grayson life since arriving in Gotham— Bruce Wayne, and grief. _How does he stand to be so happy?_ She was scared to ask. How could she, after all? To ask would be rude, and she was scared the question might be the final nail in the coffin. She could never ask him something so horrible. And yet she wondered.

She swung the door open, and she stood with bated breath. Her heart hammered against her chest, in her ears, blood rushing, and she was scared to death. Not so long ago, they'd been in this situation, but then it had been Dick Grayson, not Nightwing, and Barbara Gordon had been rushing to save him, not Batgirl. It felt different this time around. As if the stakes had risen, and but not her tolerance for fear. Losing him meant losing everything.

The room was small. There was nothing in it but a white bench installed into the wall, and a small table with a glass of water sitting on it, seemingly untouched. He looked up at her entrance, and she saw his eyes. The were hollows in his head, deep blue bruises that stared at her like death had crawled across them, turning them gauzy and glassy and glazed. They sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel herself freezing in fear. He looked at her, and he saw nothing. It was like he didn't know her at all.

His face was pale, and his lips were parted in awe of her. His thick, glossy black hair was a greater mess than usual, gone awry from twisting and turning in his sleep, or mussing it one too many times. He looked half a corpse and half an Arkham inmate. She saw his hands, bandaged and folded, and she couldn't help but stare. She had to remind herself that what he'd done, he'd done to protect his identity. But still she felt a chill.

When he spoke, his voice was as dead as his eyes.

"You," he said. He seemed to be stuck on her face. Disbelief was crawling across his face like worms across a corpse.

"Me," she said, leaning against the doorframe. She smiled at him, folding her arms across her chest. "Come on, Grayson. Let's get out of here."

He stood up, moving around the table to meet her. He reached out, and she found herself going rigid as his bandaged fingers brushing her cheek. She stared at him, watching his hollow eyes transform as they darted across her face. He seemed awestruck, and the more he looked at her the more life he seemed to gain. She felt his fingers drag across her skin, downward, tangling in the hair sticking out from her cowl.

"Grayson," he said absently, twirling a red curl around his finger. He looked at her, and he bit his lip, his eyes gleaming suddenly. "Is that… is that my name? Do you know my name?"

"What?" she gasped, stumbling back. But he'd grabbed her hands, and was clutching them desperately.

"My name," he said, his voice small. He looked away shamefully. "I… I can't… remember." He looked back at her face, his wide eyes meeting hers in a blend of startled blue. "Who are you?"

Something inside her shattered, and she knew it was her heart. Her mouth fell open, and her body shook on its own accord. She trembled because she was tearful. She was scared, and she was shocked, and she was angry. _What did they do to you?_ She wanted to scream, but she wasn't sure where her voice had gone. So she settled on yanking him into a hug, holding him so close she heard him squeak a little. But he hugged her back, his grip tighter and needier, grasping at her as if she was the only thing between him and hell. He buried his face in her neck, and breathed into her ear.

"You're real," he whispered, "right?"

She nodded against his hair, ignoring how the fragments of her heart broke further and further, splintering apart and crashing into her lungs, burrowing deep into them to impair her breathing. She couldn't speak. Her voice was caught, and her heart was gone, and she'd never been so desperate to hold him, not ever, but she couldn't let him go. She was scared to. If she did, who was to say he'd stay with her? After all, he had no idea who she was.

He had no idea who _he_ was.

* * *

The guards that _had_ caught sight of him were all in a broom closet now. It wasn't hard to see how the others had gotten caught. The place was swarming with scientists, and stealth mode made them stick out like a sore thumb. It was ridiculous, and Robin was growing concerned for the rest of his team. Like, shit, it was difficult for _him_ to stay hidden. Aquagirl and Kid Flash were probably struggling— but no alarm had gone off yet. He had to wonder why that was. Well, Tula had magic to do her bidding, and Wally was fast enough. Probably.

Robin decided he hated the mission. He really, truly despised it, because he had no idea what he was doing. He was _guessing_, and if Batman knew that, he'd be disappointed, angry— he couldn't even imagine the lecture he'd get. He had to pretend that he knew what he was doing, pretend to be confident and smart, but the truth was still so utterly prominent, and he wanted to scream.

He'd ended up finding a whole hoard of people just wandering around dazedly. "Uh," he breathed aloud, "wow."

They were all half-dead it appeared, glassy eyed and passing him without truly seeing him. He was spotted again by a guard, who shouted out in alarm, and grabbed his gun. The live corpses around Robin shrieked like children when a shot went off, whizzing past Robin's nose as he twisted his body out of the way, throwing himself at the man. His leg jutted out, smacking the gun away, and Robin felt a rush of adrenaline kick in as he back handed the man, balancing himself so he was perched against his chest, holding himself up with both hands on either side of the guard's face. He head-butted him, and kicked off into a flip, his cape billowing around him as he slid away. He flicked it back as he stood up, cocking his head to the side as he smirked.

And then he noticed that they were all staring at him. He blinked, looking around him, and he spun, realizing they'd closed in on him in a circle. He gaped, feeling uncertain. If they attacked him, he wasn't sure if he could take them all. One guard was fine. A dozen mindless people? Uh, no thanks, Jason Todd forgot to drink his milk this morning, how about another day?

"Shit," he hissed, holding his head higher. "Okay, who here is friendly?"

They all gave him the blankest stares he'd ever seen, and he felt a little bit of confidence spring into him. He watched their faces, awed and vacant, faceless people of all ages. Old men and women, races mixed together in a pool of diverse zombie-like gazes. There were about three children. One was a pale blonde girl, big blue eyes watching Jason's face without a hint of trouble or distrust. She was tall, but looked to be the youngest, with a round, smooth face, a button nose, and her gaping mouth showed that her teeth were just a bit too big for her face. Her lanky body was sort of awkward as she stood, her knees looking wobbly. Her long, tangled hair kept falling into one eye, and she was quick to push it back. Beside her was a boy with a mop of sandy blond curls swirling across his forehead and framing his cheeks. Jason tried not to let his eyes linger on the dark, jagged scar across his throat, but he couldn't help but stare and wonder. His face was slim, sharp, and his features sparked familiarity within Jason. The longer he stared, the more unnerved he got. The boy looked lithe, incredibly skinny and almost malnourished, with pale green eyes so big and wonderstruck, they looked ready to pop out of his head. They were piercing, almost like green ice in color, striking to the heart of anyone who stared into them. Robin felt sick as he remembered the eye he had found on his windowsill not so long ago, from a girl who had felt Deathstroke's wrath in Jason's place.

There had been a third. Jason blinked around, but realized that she'd wandered from the other two. He felt a hand on his arm, and he whirled around, jumping a little in shock. He'd been snuck up on, and that unsettled him. The girl was the smallest of the three, but she looked to be the oldest, if the sharp intelligence in her eyes were anything to go by. She seemed the most aware out of all of them, and there was barely a hint of a daze in her sharp black eyes. She was Asian, but a mix, her eyes large and curious, and her nose a little pointed. Her lips were round and pink, frowning up at him, and as she stared up at him he saw a pale sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She had thick black hair that framed her face in a mess of jagged tresses, like feathers dipped in ink had grown from her scalp unevenly. Her hair barely reached her chin.

"Oh," Robin said, his eyes widening as she caught a fistful of his cape. "Hi, there." She was shorter than him by about a head and a half. He watched her, and she watched him, and it became apparent that she was the one most aware of herself in the room. Her eyes flashed away, and she pulled on his cape tentatively.

"Can…" Robin let her lead him through the crowd, pulling him toward the door. "Do you know your way around this place?"

She looked at him, and she gave a sharp nod, yanking on his cape with tiny fingers. She wasn't that much younger than Jason, she couldn't be, but she was so small that he was beginning to delude himself. He looked back at the others, and he found himself startled that she was the only one who had been lucid enough to approach him.

"Wait," Robin said, taking her arm. He blinked down at it, and his heart sank as he took in the array of pale scars lining the skinny, but firmly muscled appendage. "Did they do this to you?"

The girl stopped, and she stared up at him. Her face scrunched, her nose twitching in confusion. She followed his gaze, and she stared at her arm for a few moments. She looked back up with him with wide eyes, and her skinny shoulders rose and fell limply, her mouth parting. Then she pressed her lips together and blinked up at him.

"Can…" The longer he stayed with the girl, the longer everything in him seemed to cripple in despair for her. "Can't you speak?"

Her big black eyes flashed away, growing half lidded and sad. She shook her head.

"Why?" Jason grabbed her other arm, crouching a little so they were eyelevel. "What did they do to you?"

Her eyes bore into his, flashing in confusion, and her thick, dark eyebrows knitted together. She shook her head, a question in her gaze. She reached up and took his gloved hands, pulling at him. _Come_, her eyes said. And he let her lead him. He held her hand, watching her watch him. He'd never felt so disturbed before. She wasn't scary, not at all— in fact, she was more of a comfort than anything. He was disturbed by how smart she seemed to be. He felt her eyes, and he felt them see _everything_. As if she could see his thoughts just by blinking and staring.

"I'm looking for someone," he told her. She tilted her head, and he took that as a beckoning to go on. "My friend. She's… well, she's green, she's not hard to miss. Taller than me, short red hair?" Jason gestured with one hand at his neck. She pressed her lips together, and she looked ahead for a moment pausing on their trek. Robin looked around, wondering why they hadn't passed another scientist, or a guard. The girl looked up at him, and he watched her chew on her lips, her brow knitting once again. She opened her mouth wide, and he listened to her give a soft, strangled sound.

"R—" Her nose scrunched once again, her face contorting as if in pain. "Re… eh…d?"

Robin's masked eyes widened as she reached out, her fingers pressing against his crimson tunic. "Red?" she asked again, this time finding her voice a little easier. Robin looked down at her, saw the way her eyes filled with wonder, and they twinkled inquisitively.

He nodded. "Red," he said, placing his hand over hers. "Her hair is red. Do you know where she is?"

The girl's lips tugged into a faint smile, and she turned her head away, grasping his hand and pulling. "Red," she said, as if it was an answer.

Someone spotted them when they turned down a hall, an older gentleman with glasses who took one look at them, and began to shout, "Intru—!"

Before Robin even had a chance to produce a birdarang, the man was down. He stared, at the girl, his eyes widening considerably, and his mouth fell open as she bent down and retrieved something from his pocket. She returned to Jason's side holding up a keycard, head cocked. She'd taken down the man with one swift kick, and Jason was still reeling from the sight of it. She was _fast_. Faster than him for sure.

"Red," she said, waving the keycard. She jerked her chin, grasping Jason's hand and pulling him very gently. "Red."

"Okay, okay," Jason gasped, deciding to ignore the man. _At least she can defend herself_, Jason thought. "What should I call you, anyway?"

She blinked at him, and he wanted to slap himself. Of course. She pulled him further, and it seemed that she could sense people approaching, because she barely gave anyone who saw them a chance to speak before she knocked them out. And as fast and efficient as she was, she left a trail of unconscious bodies in her stead. So it wasn't long before the alarm began to sound, and more guards began to appear. Robin joined the girl's side quickly, gassing and knocking goons into walls. The girl grabbed his hand and tugged him into a narrow passage, slinking into the shadowed pathways as guards ran past the entry, unaware. Robin crouched beside her, pulling up his cape to completely block out any sight of her in the dimness of the passageway.

She was holding his hand tight, her head ducking under his arm to see if the coast was clear. She looked up at him, and nudged him gently. He nodded, pulling her along with him as he exited the passage, looking both ways before they both went bolting down the hall.

"Is this it?" Robin asked breathlessly as she yanked him to a stop before a heavy white door. It was without a window, and it seemed to yawn upward threateningly into the slightest of arches.

The girl nodded, holding up the keycard to him. He took it, and looked down at her with curiosity and pity swirling in his heart. "How did you know where she was?" he asked her.

She tilted her head, her fluffy black hair curling around her warm hued, faintly freckled cheeks. And then she placed to fingers under her eyes, pointing. She jerked her head up, and tapped her eyelids. The sirens were wailing around them, but no more guards were coming just yet. The girl's mouth moved, not trying to form any sort of words, just opening and closing over and over.

"You…" Robin blinked. "You saw."

She looked up at him, her hands dropping back to her sides. And she nodded.

He had to take a deep breath, mentally assembling himself. "Well," he said, hovering the keycard over the scanner beside the door. "Here goes nothin'."

The door opened with a click and a _whoosh_.

The room was dark, windowless and small with out any light. There was a mattress on the floor, a tray of food left untouched beside it, and a stirring form bolting upright, blinking through the glare of light. Her hand hovered over her amber eyes to serve as a visor as she squinted at the duo in the doorway. She didn't look too different, just a little more disheveled than usual. Her cropped red hair flew all about her head in wisps of strands. She sat up straighter, smoothing her hair back as her mouth fell open in shock.

"_Robin_?"

He felt almost offended. He was in too much of a hurry to really care though. "You sound so surprised," he said, stepping into the room. She stared at him in awe, jumping to her feet and flinging herself at him. He choked on a haughty remark as her slender arms hooked around his shoulders, pulling him close to her chest. He blinked as she squeezed him, squirming a little in embarrassment. "Miss M!"

She let go of him quickly, squeaking a little bit as she smoothed his cape. "Sorry, sorry!" she gasped, stepping back and holding her folding hands to her chest. "I'm just happy to see a familiar face."

Robin's brow rose questioningly. "How long have you been in here?" he gaped.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and worried. "I don't know," she gasped, shaking her head a few more times. "It feels like forever, but I don't know, it was too dark…" She bit her lip, and she looked at him desperately. "Robin, the others, please tell me the others escaped."

His mouth opened as his heart sank further into the cavity of his chest. There was a shout from outside, a short scream cut off. The girl poked her head in, her wild black hair bouncing as she cocked her head from side to side. She looked up at Miss Martian, and she gave a shy smile.

"Red," she said, reaching out and tugging on Robin's cape. She pointed at Miss M, and she looked up at him, nodding. "Red."

"Thank you," Jason said, smiling down at her. "You're a life saver, you know that?"

She looked down, almost bashful, and she clung to his cape as she jerked her head at the hall. Robin nodded, understanding what she meant. _She's easy to understand_, Jason thought, studying her bright face. _Once you get used to her. She just wants to help_.

"Come on," Jason said, turning, "let's go."

"I can't."

He froze. He looked at her, and she smiled sadly, pressing her fingers to the collar around her neck. Robin took one look at it, and swore. The inhibitor collar had three lights burning red, and the longer he looked at it, the angrier Jason got. "Fuck," he swore. "Shit, shit, okay." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to keep his anger in check. "Ugh! Right, right, come here, let me see if I can get it off."

"You can't," Miss Martian said softly. He glared at her, and she stared back levelly. "I'm just telling the truth, you can't. And I can't get out with it on. If I get too close to the door it zaps me."

_Like a dog_, Jason found himself thinking bitterly. "Fine." Robin raised his chin high. "I'll find the switch to turn it off."

"Robin," Miss Martian said gently. "The alarm—"

"Shut the fuck up," Robin spat, whirling around and grabbing the girl's arm. "You'll have that collar off in fifteen minutes. Hold tight for me till then, kay?"

"Robin—!" she gasped, just as the door slid shut behind him.

Robin looked down at the girl, and he smiled weakly. She tilted her head, her fingers caught around the fabric of his cape, as if it gave her comfort to be near it. "You think you can be my guide a little longer, uh…" He tilted his head, and she mirrored him, eyes big and awed. Her inky black hair framed her round, tan face like a myriad of dark feathers. "I'm gonna call you Feather for now, is that okay?" She merely blinked at him. "Thought so. C'mon, Feather, I need the control room."

That she seemed to understand. She dragged at his cape, and he followed her, afraid to contact his teammates. His own rule prevented him from checking on any of the missing others, and his thoughts kept going back to Dick. He had to keep himself from going insane with fear, so instead he focused on the task ahead. There was panic brewing all around them, and Robin watched as scientists ran wild, going for Feather instead of Jason whenever they happened to catch sight of them. Feather took none of that shit.

"You have _got_ to teach me that move!" Jason gasped excitedly, gripping her hand as they hopped over their newest mess. She had completely used her opponents strength against him, touching him only once to knock him off his feet. She looked up at him in awe, her brow furrowing in a question. She didn't understand. "Teach me that," he repeated, gesturing behind him. "Fight? Kick, pow? Y'know?"

She looked up at the ceiling, puffing out her cheeks in confusion. They turned a corner, and encountered to more guards. Robin was getting used to how she zipped around, and he caught on how to slide under her as she jumped, knocking down his own opponent before she reached the ground again. When the guards were left unconscious, Feather turned to face him, and she pointed.

"Keckuh," she said brightly. "Puh-ow?"

"Kick," Robin corrected as she grabbed his hand again. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement.

"Kick," she repeated, knocking down another guard. She looked up at Jason for approval, and he nodded.

"Yeah, that's right."

The more she stuck to his side, Jason noticed, the more she came out of her shell. Her voice was very, very quiet, and it took a lot of strain just to hear it, but it was a sweet sound, and he was glad to hear it. It sounded as if they were the first words she had ever spoken, and perhaps they were. Jason could not know. But he did know that the girl was his lifeline at this point. He had her to thank for even finding M'gann.

They stopped before a door. It was different from the other doors, metal and looming, ominous to look at. It had a shimmery window, and Robin watched as Feather's shoulders squared at the sight of it. She seemed to shrink back a little bit. _She's scared_, Jason realized. He looked up at the door, and a spike of rage shot through him. He snapped, kicking the door hard enough to send a jolt through his leg. Feather jumped away from him, eyes snapping wide and gleaming with something that could be shock or terror. Jason looked at her, and he instantly regretted his anger.

"Hey," he breathed, holding up his hands. "Hey, no, look. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She looked at him with wide eyes, and slowly she slunk back to his side. It seemed she didn't know what else to do. He took a deep breath, and glanced at the door. "Okay," he murmured, reaching up and undoing the clasp of his cape. She looked doe eyed and awestruck as he draped it over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. He smiled down at her, mussing her hair as he straightened up. "You stay here," he said, pulling out the keycard. "I'll be just a minute, and then we can get Miss M and get the hell out of here, kay?"

She looked up at him, her fingers clasping around the cape and hugging it closer to herself. She looked as though she was debating. She nodded slowly, uncertainly, and Jason felt almost reluctant to go. But he had no time left to puzzle over it. He gave her one last smile, and waved the card over the scanner. He entered the room without looking back.

It was way bigger than he'd expected. A huge, expansive screen framed the far wall, layers and layers of grid crawling across the corners and creeping into the wide, but smaller screens lining the other walls. Everything was bright in the room, and everything was thrumming, as if the machines were alive. Robin moved around the eerie looking chair at the center of the room, the only thing in it aside from the computers, and he headed toward the keyboard.

He spent a minute or so hacking before he came across the list of inhibitor collars online in the building. He found M'gann's, and switched it off with a flick of his finger. Too easy.

And he should have stopped there.

Instead, he looked around him, and bit his lip_. But if I leave without getting recon on these guys, what will Batman think?_ That was his reasoning for it. And it was horrible. But he got an idea. A beautiful, chaotic idea that struck his fancy just right. But it would take a bit longer than a minute. _She can fight off anyone who comes near her_, he told himself, shoving a Trojan USB into a slot, working quickly to hack through any firewall to come at him. When he found the system to be calm, no longer aware of the threat, he began to search for… whatever. Stuff about the missing teammates, or maybe Feather's actual name.

He found Dick's first.

They didn't know his name, which was good. What was written was still jarring.

_Reluctant to respond to treatment. May need second wiping. Keep careful watch._

Under that in bold, it said, **SOLD**.

That's when the panic settled in.

_Oh god, no_, Jason thought frantically, stumbling back. _No, no, no, no, no!_

"BG," he gasped, pressing his finger to his ear. "Please tell me you've got Nightwing!"

Her voice was a sweet, simple calm to soothe his fears. "_He's fine_," she replied. "_We're almost out of the building. Who tripped the alarm_?"

The relief was too strong to care about the fact that it'd been him. "Dunno," he said. "Thanks, though. I'll be out soon. Robin, out."

Jason glared at the computer screen, and he leaned forward, tapping the word **SOLD**. The name that popped up was no surprise, and yet his stomach squirmed.

"It would be," he murmured, flicking Deathstroke's picture to enlarge it. He blinked, and noticed he had two names under Nightwing's. _How many people did Deathstroke buy_, Jason thought, horrified. He tapped one, Joseph Wilson, and watched the image of the slim, green-eyed boy he'd seen earlier pop up. He was vaguely hopeful that the next name, Tara Markov, could be Feather's. It wasn't. It was the tall blonde girl's, and there was nothing of interest in either of their bios. Tara offered little on who she was, only that she was easy to sway, and Joseph's managed to tell Jason that he was mute due to a severed larynx.

He checked Artemis's next. Nothing of interest. She had not, in fact been sold, but Robin looked at the interested buyers. League of Shadows, yes— no specification on who, but Robin could guess. He checked for M'gann, but there was no record of her, strangely. Then he checked Kaldur.

"Oh," he breathed, his eyes widening. "Oh fuck."

Kaldur was gone. Sold to Black Manta, and filed as departed. Jason spun around, pressing his finger to his ear once again, fiddling with his communicator for a moment. "Aquagirl, are you there?" he asked, sounding breathless and furious.

"_I am_," she gasped, "_a bit busy_!"

"Don't care!" Jason glared at the computer, and he shook his head. "Aqualad is gone. Get the hell out of here, _right_ now!"

"_Excuse me_…?" she asked, sounding fate. Then she sounded enraged. "_**Excuse**__ me_?"

"Go," Jason snapped. "Get the fuck out!"

He could almost feel her shaking in fury. "_I will call you back_," she snarled, and the line was cut.

Jason took a deep breath. He turned back toward the computer. He just needed a few minutes longer for the USB to suck the entire system dry. So he turned his interests toward the purpose of the facility. What he found was a heap of jigsaw puzzle pieces. What he gathered was… well, the chair zapped memories. Or, at least, blocked them off. Whoever had invented it had been inspired by an encounter with Psimon gone wrong— or right, maybe. Now the facility used its technology to kidnap and sell people it deemed valuable.

Before he could crack the computer screen by punching it, there was a distinct sound of metal hitting flesh from outside. Jason's blood chilled in his veins, and he bolted to the door, ready to rush to Feather's side. Instead, it swung open, and Jason was knocked backwards by a fist to his face. He gasped, steeling himself as he moved to retaliate blindly, but he was grabbed by the arms on either side before he could do so. He twisted, grunting as he was whacked across the cheek, and he heard something crack the third time. Blood filled his mouth, spilling from his nose in fast rivulets. He blinked away stars, and he spat and screamed curses, flailing against them.

"You fuckers_, get off_," he snarled, his arms and legs flying out, kicking and punching and clawing. When he realized what was happening, real fear took over him. His eyes widened in terror as they slammed his back against the chair, and he twisted wildly. "No!" he screamed, slugging a man in the jaw. He almost sprung free that time, but they pinned him back down quickly. He rasped, choking on blood as he twisted and squirmed and screamed and gasped, coughing and shouting and cursing. "No, fucking hell, no—!" _No, no, no, no, no, no, no!_

He felt something attach to his arm, and realized it was a wire to a heart monitor. He spluttered, glowering up at the men with hazy vision. His head felt like it was about to split open. "Fuck you," he spat, blood flying from his mouth. "Fuck you all, and see you in hell."

They did not react. _M'gann_, he thought desperately, his mind reaching out as they slid needles into the epidermis at his forehead. _M'gann!_ He pushed his mind so hard he could no longer see. There was nothing but stars in his eyes, and trails of fire running through his skin. And then his mind began to burn. His heart and head pounded, a furious drum that burned with the rest of him, burned and burned and burned, crushed him under sun and rush and flame, and he coughed blood, rasping as a buzz filled his ears, and everything in the world rushed into his mind, and then rushed out, flooding him with blind pain and numbness all at once, and he couldn't stand it, he felt like he was going to break apart and break and break and break and break, and he scream, and he screamed, and he screamed, but it was just noise, senseless noise of agony. _**M'GANN!**_

It stopped all at once.

Reality flooded back to him like a floodgate opening, and he blinked away tears as he coughed, his entire body aching. His vision returned just enough to see a pretty green face hovering over his. There were tears in her eyes, but she was not crying, and she was clutching his arm tightly, her other hand on his head. He was trembling, and he breathed in and out, choking on his own blood. His head lolled as he attempted to pull himself up shakily.

"M…" he choked, tripping as he got up, and collapsing into her arms. They both sunk to their knees. He didn't realize he was sobbing until smoothed back his hair, pressing her forehead to his. He felt a burst of ice wash over the wildfire in his mind, and he let a strangled gasp of relief leave his lips. "Miss M…?" he mumbled, staring at her dazedly. There were tears on his cheeks, and he was shaking all over.

"You're okay," she promised, sounding shaky herself. "I talked to the others. They're all okay too, except…"

"Aqualad," Jason said, everything rushing back to him, blood oozing from a fresh wound. He stood shakily, and stumbled over the body of a man. Jason looked at him, and realized he was wide awake, and staring at nothing. He was alive, but dead inside. And somehow, Jason just didn't fucking care. "What did you do?" he asked, his voice thin and dark.

She sniffed, and stood up behind him. "I…" She struggled to say it. "I made them feel what they were… trying to do to you. I made them feel what it felt like to have their minds wiped." She choked on a sob, and stumbled back, clapping her hands over her mouth. Jason turned to stare at her blankly. "Oh, god, I… this is bad, isn't it? I did something bad."

"No," Jason said, his heart burning in his chest. It burned and burned and burned, until it was nothing but charcoal and dust. And then it blew away into the wind, leaving nothing but an empty cavity. "It's not bad if they deserved it."

He reached out, grabbing the USB drive, and taking M'gann's hand. She looked down at him, and smiled tremulously, giving a weak, vacant nod. "Yeah," she said, nodding furiously. "Yeah, you're right. They're the bad guys. _Hello, Megan_." The phrase was said with such a bitterness, that she spat it like it was a foul mixture of blood and a swear.

"Fuck," Jason spat, just to test it. Blood flew, and it still didn't sound half so bitter. M'gann held onto him as they walked out of the control room, and Jason looked around wildly for the girl, but the mute child was gone. Jason didn't know what he'd expected. He saw his cape pooled up on the ground, half torn, and he bent down shakily to pick it up. He let his mind go numb as he clipped it around him, ignoring the flecks of blood that dotted its interior. He dug into his bet, and withdrew six batarangs, three for each hand. He spun around and flung them, just as the door began to slide shut.

"Run," he told M'gann, flicking the detonator.

She didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

_Oh my god. Six months? Ahahahaha. No, I have a real excuse. Take a good look at **Stages of Deterioration**, the six chapter what if fic about if Jason had been resurrected before the start of season two, in 2015. Look, I'm really proud of it, okay, it's so long it literally has like every ounce of my energy and dreams in it I cannot even fathom how to live without it, but I still have the epilogue so we'll see._

_I was going to write more about angsty bioship stuff, but no, this chapter is too long, and this story is not, in fact, Stages of Deterioration. I can't write 90 page chapters for this fic, I'll never finish it. That's why I'm, sadly, going to cut a subplot about Joey Wilson. Probably. We'll see how writing next chapter goes. Oh, if anyone is wondering the ages, Tara Markov is nine, Joey Wilson is ten, and Cassandra Cain (if anyone didn't guess it was her, y'all need jesus) is eleven. Oh god, I wish Jason could have just curled up with Cass and taken her home and nothing bad would ever happen ever because Cass wouldn't have none of that shit, yo, when Cass Cain is around the you know you're safe. Too bad her dad got to her first._

_Oh, hey, guess what? DickBabs ended up being canon. So I can write about it. Dick, that was a very naughty dream. _

_Ha ha ha ha, okay, imma ollie out, but please review! I mean, you waited this long? Might as well tell me what you think. Observe how my writing has changed. (I consider this to be a short chapter, and it took me a little less than a week to write it, I kid you not, all I had was up to the first linebreak before Tuesday.)_


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